


Rachel

by Worffan101



Series: Rachel Connor's story [6]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Online
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Fantasy Racism, Internalized racism, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-24 17:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21102923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/pseuds/Worffan101
Summary: Rachel Connor has twice faced sociopathic cyborg Ellen Shaw, and twice failed to defeat her.  But now, with Shaw on the run, and Section 31, the malevolent secret society that backs the evil supersoldier, under attack on all fronts, Rachel and her friends redouble their efforts to get Rachel back on her feet and on an even keel.Content warnings for rape threats, attempted rape, sexual violence, graphic violence, and internalized fictional racism.Part 3 of a 3-part miniseries.I promised an optimistic ending and here it is.





	Rachel

**Author's Note:**

> The holodeck sequence is based off of the Enterprise episode "The Augments" but I changed some details largely because I hate Enterprise and especially Captain Archer, so I changed his role, personality, and even race, because Enterprise sucked. 
> 
> Thanks again to Starsword-C for letting me borrow Captain Kanril Eleya and Supervising Agent Grell, as well as for considerable help fleshing out Shaw's plotline in this part of the story and expanding the first half of this part when it was too rushed.

_Lieutenant Rachel Connor. Holodeck Three, USS _Bajor_, orbit of Europa Nova. Three days after Ellen Shaw’s escape from the Starfleet ambush._

“Heel, dog,” Shaw sneers, her gorgeous lips twisted into a hateful snarl. “Make it easy on yourself.” 

I raise my hands to a ready position, only shaking a bit. “Fuck you, Shaw.” 

She lunges for me, and I block her first blow, step back to dodge her attempt to stamp on my instep, counter with a knee, slip sideways as she throws a fist at my head, chop to the neck…

A blow powers into my gut and I stumble backwards, wheezing. Shaw pulls me down over her knee, and I crumple, trying to get my arms under me. 

“When I’m done with you, you’re going to _ wish _ you were dead,” the cyborg sneers. “Can you get that plating inside of you? That’d make fucking you less fun.” 

“I’ll kill you,” I wheeze, lunging for her midsection and taking her off her feet. Shaw yelps, and I haul myself up her body, punching her face, then her gut, then reaching up to hit her face again. The cyborg’s plump lips split, and she wails in pain before slugging me in the chest. I get her by the throat as I fall, and grip as tight as I can, pulling myself up with a groan. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, Shaw!” 

She goes to grab me down there, and I crush her hand beneath my knee. Hurts, but worth it. “You won’t touch me again!” I grab her face and jerk her head to the side to snap her neck. 

The holodeck dings, and I sit back onto my heels, panting for breath. “Again!” 

“You actually regained the initiative that time,” Luiz rumbles. “Sir, I think you’re actually… making progress.” It’s the most grudging tone I’ve ever heard. 

“I told you, my way works.” I grab a water bottle as the hologram derezzes. My hand’s shaking, and my razor teeth slice into the plastic mouthpiece. “Aw, shit.” 

Luiz and Lamont look at each other. “I still think that we should notify Doctor Shree,” Lamont says. “This isn’t worth the damage you could do to yourself.” 

“Are doing,” K’tar corrects him. The Klingon tech’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one leg still in a knee cast to deal with what’s left of the damage Shaw did after the doctors got done. “Exposure therapy only goes so far, and it only really works for obsessive-compulsive disorder. You don’t have that. You may be desensitizing yourself to the fear, but numbing yourself like this is only going to work against the sim, not against a psychopath who knows psy-ops enough to get inside your head.” 

“Exposure therapy? The Hell did you learn that shrink lingo?” 

He shrugs. “I thought that picking up the prerequisites for a DI job would guarantee a job once I aged out of MACO. I still have the psychology textbooks on my personal PADD, flipped through to see if there was anything I could do to help you, sir. With respect, sir, what you’re doing here is a treatment that’s supposed to deal with irrational fears. What you have isn’t irrational fear, it’s post-traumatic stress coming from a real trauma, and all you’re doing is aggravating it by deliberately exposing yourself to the stressing agent with limited support.” 

“So what do you boys suggest I do then? Huh?” I snap it out. Kallio sighs. “Get some medicinal weed and do a sing-along?” 

“If drugs worked on you, I’d suggest that you at least try,” Luiz rumbles. “At the root, though, you gotta find a healthier way to cope. Beating your head against the metaphorical wall...sir, with respect, you’re a MACO. We’re supposed to be smarter than that.” 

“Got any better ideas?” 

“I do,” K’tar growls. He taps the panel, and the holodeck door beeps as it locks. “Computer, load program, group therapy pi-five.” 

“_ Group therapy _?” I hiss as the sim-Shaw and deckwork is replaced by a drab tan office and a ring of chairs. My men sit, as I stand with my arms crossed. “I don’t think singing kumbaya is going to work.” 

“With respect, Lieutenant, we need to try something different,” Lamont shoots back. “This is what that looks like.” 

“I’m making progress!” 

“You’ve fought that thing how many times, sir?” Kallio asks. “Shaw’s a pisshead cow with a face like an elephant’s cunt, but she’s smarter than a hologram. You don’t get record scores in small-unit tactics and thrash _ entire MACO units _ without being smart. That hologram is still getting into your head, and that means Shaw absolutely _ will _, Satan’s sidekick or not.” 

“Face like an elephant’s…” Luiz asks in confusion. 

“Old Finnish idiom.” 

“_ Fine _ ,” I grumble, because they’re right, damn it. I’m a stubborn bitch, but I’m also a stubborn bitch who’s _ desperate _ for anything to make me feel like _ me _ again. I still sit down with more force than is strictly necessary. Stubborn bitch and all. “Who wants to start?” 

“I will,” Luiz says, leaning forward in his seat as I settle into mine. “Hi, I’m Jose. I’ve got mommy issues out the ass, largely because she got on a back-to-nature-with-lots-of-marijuana kick the year she had me, and stuck me with a God-awful name. I haven’t talked to her in over a decade and I probably never will until she apologizes. I basically have no family that still talks to me because they think I overreacted, I sometimes hear the brothers and sisters in arms we’ve lost in my dreams, and I admit that I still feel sick whenever the Lieutenant adapts.” 

“I’m Aarno,” Kallio pipes up. “I nearly killed my current superior officer the first day I knew her. Sorry about that, sir. Before that, I got targeted by a Herald Thrall as I was trying to provide overwatch and while I was moving my old squad’s second and tech got gunned down by Defilers. I act like a ladies’ man but I haven’t actually slept with anyone since the time I went to Risa four years ago, and even then I’m pretty sure she just pitied me. And I claimed she had a twin sister when I was in the mess hall later that week and I lied until people believed me. I feel guilty that I want to kill Shaw when it’s the Lieutenant’s place to decide what happens to that bitch who crawled out of Satan’s asshole.” 

“I’m K’tar,” K’tar growls. “I vote Socialist People’s in most elections because they want to legally crack down on fake science in private schools. I know they’re top-down semi-authoritarian pacifists who want to de-fund the military and run roughshod over free speech to deal with minor problems, but I grew up on a crummy little backwater in the Maquis belt where they teach you that transwarp runs on the spores of a magic mushroom that connects the real world and the spirit realm, and that crystals have magic healing powers, and nobody _ else _ is doing anything about the kids on my homeworld who get raised on that crap. Oh, and I don’t actually find Orion women all that attractive.” 

“I’m Andrew,” Lamont adds. “I sometimes have trouble reconciling my faith with myself. I know that’s kind of a Catholic stereotype, but it’s true. I never even meant to join Starfleet, I did it on a dare and let myself get routed from Security to MACO when I couldn’t get another job. I sometimes stay up late at night worrying that I’m doing a bad job as team second, or that I’m too much of an emotional crutch for people, or that I’m not as good of a shot as I once was, or any number of other things.” 

They look to me. Sitting here with my hair growing out enough to be soft, arms crossed and skin mottled like curdled milk. 

I lick my lips and take the plunge. “I’m Rachel. I let my family think I was dead for years out of nothing but fear. It took me a decade to get over my first girlfriend after she cheated on me. My rebound after her was marriage material and he dumped me because he thought I was being racist against augs. I never talked about my feelings much before and I hate going to the shrink. It makes me feel weak. I spent years being a bitch to my sister because she settled down and had kids early, but I’m worried that that was just me...you know...being jealous. And I’m not certain and that makes it worse. I’m worried that I’m slowly turning into the evil augment from the old propaganda movies, from before they had holo. 

“And…” I lick my lips. “I’m worried that I’m _ not _ going bad. I’m worried that I’m still me, and it’s _ me _ , that part of me that likes this, the part of me that loves operating at this level even if it means being an engineered abomination. I mean...there’s not enough monster in there to make my decisions. It’s _ me _ who wants my rights back, _ me _ who wanted to kick Shaw’s ass, _ me _ who’s been in charge since I woke up. But...I always told myself that the part that liked this, that likes being a fucking supersoldier violation of natural law, that that was the aug talking. And I think it might be me and I think I always _ knew _ it was me. 

“And that scares the _ piss _ out of me even more than Shaw does.” 

They have the decency to keep their poker faces and not laugh at the ridiculous crap that is my life or the way I stammer. Hell, it’s almost like they still respect me. 

“The way I see it,” Luiz rumbles, “you’ve got a _ right _ to like it.” 

I scoff. “Section 31 perverted me, _ violated _ me to make me a _ living weapon _. I should hate every second of my life.” 

“You know what they say about life, lemons, and lemonade,” K’tar counters. “What _ they _ did to you is the crime. How _ you _ react is all up to you.” 

“I told Eleana this on Regulus,” I continue. “Talked with Doc Shree about it, too. I don’t know what to think.” 

“Changing your thinking isn’t gonna happen overnight,” K’tar points out. Lamont and Luiz nod along with him. “_ However _ . It’s good that you _ do _ have some feelings and thoughts that run counter to the racism issues you’ve been having. That’s progress, and honestly, that’s enough for now.” 

“He’s right,” Lamont chimes in. “Now, as far as dealing with Shaw goes? I think she got inside your head in that black site.” 

I want to deny it. But it dies on my lips. I sit back with a grimace. “Yeah. She did.” Kinda obvious at that. “I’m worried that if I fight her again, she’ll use...me being scared of losing control, to break me, then I’ll lose control. If that makes sense.” 

Luiz leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Practically, we’re gonna be there when you find her.” Kallio nods, miming holding his DMR. “But you know what? You gotta remember who’s got your back, and who’s got Shaw’s.” 

Kallio nods again. “You got the woman who saved the Federation at your back, sir,” he points out. “And four idiots who’re all more pissed off than a bear shot in the ass and carry more guns than the soldier of three armies held in his life.” 

“The who?” K’tar asks. 

“Lauri Törni,” I say before Kallio can launch into some over-the-top silly nationalist gag. “Finnish soldier, 20th century. Fought for Finland, Nazi Germany, and the USA. Thus, ‘soldier of three armies’.” 

“Kind of a motherfucker,” Kallio notes. “White Death, Terror of Morocco, they left well enough alone when the war was done. We proved to Stalin we weren’t worth the trouble, why kill more Commies somewhere else?” He shakes his head. “Besides, what kind of tight-hatted reindeer bourgeoisie goes and joins the SS? Even Mannerheim thought Hitler was a pile of cock vomit who ought to ski into a spruce.” 

“Yeah, Törni got a little less popular in Finland after neo-Nazis linked to the Optimum movement tried to launch a coup in Helsinki in the late 2040s,” I note. 

“More like anything even vaguely associated with the Nazis was as popular as an icewater enema,” Kallio mutters. 

I can’t help but crack a weak grin at the little bastard’s antics. “Yeah. Hey, thanks, Kallio.” 

He half-bows with a little flourish. “Always a pleasure, sir.” 

We share a laugh at that. 

“So,” Lamont says, bringing us back on topic. “The way I see it, you’re a badass, sir. You’ve got badasses at your back. Who’s Shaw got?” 

I nod along. After a moment, Luiz and K’tar speak up. “Nobody,” they growl. 

“Shaw’s got nothing and nobody,” Luiz continues. “Section 31? They only give a shit about results. Shaw can go fuck her mother’s shell, because not even her posh parents are going to bail her out of _ this _ one.” Someone from Maintenance heard the Captain talking with the Captain of the _ Sentinel _, and now the rumor mill’s on fire with tales of how Shaw’s parents are corrupt bougie assholes. I don’t know how I’m going to survive without the shipboard gossip cycle whenever I finally retire, probably waste away for lack of petty drama. 

“Yeah,” I agree. And it’s _ hitting _ me, it actually feels different when I talk to people about it like this. _ Shaw has nobody. I have support _ . I can fight back. She _ has _ to dominate me all the way through or she’s fucked. 

I just might be able to win this. 

***

_ Captain Kanril Eleya. USS Bajor wardroom. _

My chief engineer throws a partly melted plastoid object onto the table. “Frakking piece of alicorn dung, that.” 

I pick it up off the table and squint at it. “A Heisenberg compensator?” 

“Yeah, modified,” Bynam Ehrob agrees. “For transwarp beaming. That’s how Shaw got out of that safehouse. Lucky, too, it burned out right after.”

“And we’re sure the shuttle had nothing to do with them whatsoever?”

Dul’krah nods. “Civilians. We’ve confirmed a payment chartering a flight to Jouret IV. It traces to a Yoyodyne shell account.”

“And I assume they had a clean criminal record, of course.”

“On the contrary, the copilot served time in a penal facility on Endar III for aggravated assault. He was paroled for good behavior, completed his period of supervised release, and appears to have since been a model citizen.”

“‘Appears’?” I repeat suspiciously.

“I may have chosen my words poorly,” the big, horned alien answers evenly. “The subject is divorced, with three children and visitation rights, and no further criminal record, nor any likely connection to Section 31. His social media accounts show nothing resembling extreme political views, his voter registration is to the Federalist Party, he served a term as an independent shippers’ rep in the Transport Guild—”

I hold up my hand to stop him. “A model citizen, got it.” More than anything else the party registration is what convinces me: the Federalists are mainly a “state power over federal power” party, and Section 31 pretty much believes the exact opposite.

“As far as he and his business partner knew, everything was above-board. Given the… _ transwarp beaming _ rig in the safehouse,” he says with a mildly confused glance at the Andorian goldshirt to his right, “I suggest they were hired as a distraction.” 

I narrow my eyes. “That sounds like Section 31 had a whiff that something’s up. You think the investigation might be compromised?”

“Possibly. What I do know is that four hours ago, the federal prosecutor on Earth unsealed indictments of two high-level executives of Yoyodyne Division on conspiracy charges. The Federation Councilors for Mars and Terra Nova are listed as unindicted co-conspirators.” 

“Intel’s moving to put pressure on them,” I realize. “Probably working with the FSA, trying to put some pressure on them so that anyone with Section 31 ties on the board gets jumpy.” Civilian investigative services have had a half-dozen clashes with Yoyodyne just in the last two decades; the combine’s launched two re-branding campaigns to try to clean up its image since the turn of the century. 

“Looks like, El,” Gaarra agrees. “And whatever’s happening, it’s happening soon. I got word from a buddy who works for Admiral Sonyok—what with the attempted attack at the conference, Chief of Starfleet Security is getting ready to officially declare Section 31 a terrorist organization.”

Doc Wirpanda whistles. “That’s big.” I nod my agreement—up until now, it’s been nearly impossible to get the branch chiefs to acknowledge that Section 31 even _ exists _.

“Okay. That’s all well and good, but we need to find a new angle now that Shaw’s on the lam and we couldn’t close the net on our only lead. We need to find a nearly untraceable cyborg super-assassin who’s gone to ground after a botched mission and probably knows there’s a leak in her organization, and we need to do it _ before _ Section 31 has her take out a VIP while we’re trying to find our asses. Any ideas?” 

“Track her by the implants?” Wirrpanda suggests. “Or rather, by what the implants _ replace _. If they replaced her long bones with cybernetics, and based on what data we have I find that likely, she’ll need something to replace her marrow. Not many people need those kinds of supplements, and most of them are patients with rare bone cancers.” 

“They could have a reservoir implant with her own marrow tissue, though,” Biri counters. “Fit it on the inside of the ribcage or in the hips, run some tubes into the bloodstream. Though—would she need anything to deal with the tritanium corroding?” 

“With respect, Captain, I think we might have bigger problems,” Lamont speaks up. “We put the matter of Lieutenant Connor’s DNA on the back burner because we had a hot lead on Shaw, but if Section 31 has her DNA they could be trying to duplicate her.” 

“Hey, that gives me an idea,” Gantumur says. “They’ll need to test their new supersoldier if they get the genetic engineering to work. Who better to test ‘em against than Shaw?” 

“And Shaw cannot perform another assassination until the manhunt dies down,” Dul’krah adds. “A reasonable idea.” 

“Biri, Doc, any idea what Section 31 would need to duplicate the Lieutenant?” I ask. 

Wirrpanda raps the table with a frown. “Hmm—replicating her is by no means certain even with a sample to work from. But—Yoyodyne’s been funnelling money into a new derivative of CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing, supposedly for correcting congenital abnormalities in utero. Supposedly it’ll cut down on error risk by over 30%.” 

“They’ll be altering adults,” Biri adds. “Connor’s DNA is such a hodgepodge of sequences and epigenetic cues, it’s a miracle she even has a stable system. It’d take too long to raise a new embryo all the way to adulthood, not to mention that development would be a _ mess _ given how her hormones work. I think they’re smart enough to use volunteers this time, but even then… you have to edit out the parts that are _ her _ and leave the parts that are the new strands, which they _ can _ do because her pre-augmentation DNA profile is part of her personnel file at Starfleet Medical, but even then, she has a _ lot _ of DNA, and most of it is silenced most of the time. They need to edit the genome itself perfectly and then get the epigenetics right or… well, she told me that bad things happened to the first 86 test subjects, and I believe her. Screwing something this delicate up could cause everything from rapid-onset cancer to, I don’t know, the brain eating itself.” 

“What?” 

“Her glial cells can adapt to block telepathic intrusion and stabilize her central nervous system,” Wirrpanda explains. “Gives her symptoms ranging from a headache to full-on encephalitis-like confusion and mild seizures. That takes a lot of energy, though. Hypothetically if they screwed it up the glial cells might eat the neurons for energy.” 

“So what I’m gathering is, they need a lot of specialized equipment and we might be able to track it?” 

Wirrpanda and Biri share a look. “Hypothetically,” they say in unison. 

“They could be routing it through a crooked clinic,” Wirrpanda explains. “It’s not the first time that doctors have skirted the law for what they saw as the greater good. Remember when Doctor Bashir had to leave the country because of that mess in the Xarantine system?” 

“Yeah, Amar Singh’s Gorn augments, right? Bashir was doing research on augmentation and removing the aggression genes when the Gorn tried to kidnap him, Soc-Pep and P-Soc establishment types on the Council were going to revoke his license so he moved back to Cardassia?” 

“That, yes. There’s a good chance that a doctor sympathetic to Section 31 is willing to help route them supplies.” 

“Work on it anyway, and keep me and zh’Zoarhi updated. Dul’krah, what about tracking down Shaw independently?” 

“It would be difficult under optimal circumstances, Captain,” he admits. “Unless you have another Section 31 agent who owes you a favor.” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure _ I _ owe _ Grell _ one after the mess that Europa Nova turned into. Alright then, I think for now focusing on the medical angle is the way to go, unless we get really lucky and, I don’t know, Shaw needs a replacement implant or something.” 

“Petty Officer Luiz damaged her knee,” Dul’krah notes, sitting forwards just a bit. “_ If _ the damage was severe enough, and the cybernetic armature unusual enough, that might give us a way to track her.” 

“Work on that, too, then. I’ve got to meet with Kree-Sanat and the task force again, feel free to call me if you get a lead.” 

***

_ Rachel. USS Bajor, deck 12. En route to the Sherman system, November 2411. _

My girlfriend meets me outside the holodeck. 

“Hey, babe,” I greet her, managing a grin. “You shouldn’t be around for this…” 

“No, I should.” Eleana hooks her arm around my elbow, and even though I tense up for a fraction of a second, I’m grateful that she doesn’t bother asking permission. I _ hate _ being treated like glass. “We’re changing up your therapy.” 

“The Hell? I had it all planned out…” 

“Plans change.” She tugs me along, palming the door open. “We’re going to try something new.” 

I eye the weird grey camo uniform she’s wearing. “22nd century roleplay?” 

“Exactly.” She leads me into a bare steel corridor from a primitive warp ship, the gravy plating uneven enough that it can’t be later than the 2160s. “We’re MACOs. Earth MACOs, from before the Federation. And we’ve got a meeting on the Bridge.” 

“What is this, an NX-01 historical?” 

“A new one, with good reviews for accuracy. With a few very slight adjustments.” She leads me up to a door in the holodeck and taps the control to open it. Man, that’s primitive, not even automatic sensors as the standard. On the bridge—vintage, more sleek metal and harsh angles, Asian guy in the Captain’s chair, a female Vulcan at the XO’s seat, and a well-dressed black guy talking quietly with the Captain--we’re sighted immediately and waved over by the Captain. His uniform is blue, gold piping running down the shoulders, an NX-01 patch on one shoulder and a United Earth Starfleet patch on the other. 

“Ah, Major, Lieutenant,” he greets us. “Good to see you ready for duty so soon after that dustup with the Orions. I’m afraid that the mission Ambassador Archer and I have for you is rather delicate.” 

“We’re ready for anything, Captain,” Eleana says, standing at decent parade rest. 

“Computer, freeze program,” I cut in. Eleana turns to me, and honestly, grey camo on her finely-pebbled green skin just looks _ weird _. Not bad. Just weird. “What’s the point of this? I don’t normally do rec programs.” 

“Give it a chance,” she pleads. “Come on, Rachel, you haven’t even heard the mission.” 

“I don’t see the point…” I mutter, but acquiesce. “Computer, resume program.” 

“Excellent,” the holo-Captain says with a warm grin. “Now, as you know, we’re currently pursuing a team of Augments that commandeered a Klingon warship and raided Cold Station 12 yesterday. They are believed to be being assisted by Doctor Arik Soong, a noted geneticist who was until recently incarcerated at Starfleet Command.” 

“We know him,” Eleana replies. “You want us to do a raid on the Augments’ bridge, sir?” 

“Yes, although I would much prefer one last attempt to de-escalate tensions,” Ambassador Archer, the black guy in civvie clothes, speaks up. This must be the remake—I haven’t seen this edition of the NX-01 series before, only the shitty ‘60s version where they whitewashed Archer and made him the Captain. ‘I’ll be the one watering their Alvira trees’, oh, man, me and Bev Kree-Sanat had such a time getting plastered and mocking that episode…

“Captain Chen and I believe that it is still possible to find a peaceful resolution to this conflict,” the Ambassador continues. The actor did a great job, too—I can really believe that this guy convinced four bickering species to sit down and sign the Articles of Federation. “If not… Lieutenant, your, ah, _ genetic benefits _ should be useful.” 

I spin towards Eleana. “What the _ fuck _?” 

“K’tar and I edited it to make your character an Augment,” she whispers. “Ambassador Archer, Captain Chen, you can count on us.” She salutes, which I follow on sheer instinct, and the historical characters return it. 

“What the _ hell _ is the point of that? This whole episode is about going and beating up a bunch of augs! And if you wanted to play a hologame with me, why not get the cheesy ‘60s version or the ‘02 remake instead of the accurate one?” 

“Because this one is based heavily on the actual logs, interviews, and Archer’s personal files including his talks with Soong,” Eleana replies as I follow her out the door and down towards the holographic ship’s armory. “Come on! I haven’t been brushing up on marksmanship for nothing!” 

“Where’s my squad?” 

“Workout program. This one’s just the two of us. No job. No pain. Just a holo-game, and maybe a few thoughts.” 

“I don’t know if I’ve got the time for this, I need to focus on beating Shaw.” 

“You’re _ obsessing _ about her!” Eleana snaps. “Every day you want to get back on the holodeck and fight a replica of that bitch, over and over, trying to make yourself numb to her threats. What good does that do? All you’re doing is making yourself relive the pain, relive what she put you through, over and over and over, when you could be working on other issues you’ve been dealing with, training so you don’t have to spend weeks in combat sims when you get back on active duty, or Sef forbid taking ten minutes to get some coffee with me. You’re _ so much more _ than Ellen Shaw and what she did to you, Rachel! You’ve got so many triumphs, so many other problems, so much to _ give a shit _ about that has nothing to do with her. 

“So let’s just take an hour or two and have some fun on the holodeck, huh? Just you and me.” 

I lick my lips. “I mean...I’ve gotta…” What can I really say? “...alright. Fine. Let’s try it.” 

We pick up a couple of vintage pulse rifles from the armory, and Eleana looks away while I pull up the onboard replicator and get myself a period costume. Gotta commit, right? 

“When in the incident is this?” I ask as we head for the transporter room. It’s in the early days of transport but since it’s a holodeck it should work fine. “The first time they caught up after CS12?” 

“Yes, Captain Chen just bluffed his way past a Klingon scout ship.” 

“Right—they didn’t go after Soong and the augs here, or beam anybody over.” 

“They will here, because your character’s a supersoldier,” she grins. “Again, K’tar and I made a few edits.” 

“What’s the point of playing a historical if it’s been edited?” I grumble, but whatever, my girlfriend wants to do this, so I’ll shut my bitch-hole and play along. Who knows? I might even have some fun. 

“You look good,” Eleana says with a grin as she turns back, hefting her own rifle. “If you enjoy this, we should do historical holos more often.” 

I manage a chuckle, and give her a once-over. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Indeed, her ass looks _ fantastic _ in those pants. For a moment, I almost feel like _ me _ again. Two months ago we’d have slipped into easy flirting on a date like this without even thinking. 

Then the ball of bullshit roiling in my guts surges up, and I turn aside with a grimace, focusing on the pulse rifle. “Ahem. Anyway, let’s get this shit done.” 

The program’s got some pretty impressive transporter effects, I gotta admit. The feeling of having every atom in your body squeezed through a hole in space-time for an impossible instant isn’t there, but the visual effect isn’t that different from the reality; obviously the holodeck can’t simulate a transporter accident like would probably happen when doing a stunt like this with a primitive transporter, but at least the devs made an effort. After the transport (the program’s story says that NX-01 is busy rescuing a Denobulan from a gas giant while we’re stuck on the augs’ stolen Klingon ship), I take the lead, rifle ready. 

“Stay right behind me,” I warn Eleana as we “materialize” in a corridor, all bare metal and harsh angles. “Even with the safeties on, an aug supersoldier’ll pack a punch.” 

“I’m not exactly fragile,” she retorts. “And I’ve been practicing with a phaser. Hit the target 80% of the time!” 

I feel a grin twitching at the corners of my lips. “Gonna need to get a bit better than that to make MACO, hon.” 

“Good thing I’m an exobiologist,” she remarks. A door hisses open as we pass it, and I react instantly, spinning to hit a holo-Augment in the face with a shot from the pulse rifle, then follow up by shattering his nose just in case. Can’t be too careful with an aug. 

“Yeah. Guess my reflexes’re still working,” I mutter as I shut the door, the hologram crumpled on the floor, and bust the panel--the holodeck should register that door as jammed now. “Watch the doors, OK?” 

“Right. Um, good to know.” 

“First thing you learn running practice boarding ops. Remember where the doors are, or you’re fucked.” I turn as the door on the _ other _ side of the corridor opens, and lunge as a woman in a torn-up outfit steps out, holding a knife. She reacts lightning-fast--Augment for sure--and I twist around her as she dodges, the knife whispering past my arm as I clap a hand over the woman’s mouth and haul her into the room. “Shoot her!” I snap, and Eleana finally reacts, pulling up her gun and shooting awkwardly at the hologram as it goes for me again with the knife. Safeties are on so the blade only stings instead of cutting, and I grab and twist the hologram’s wrist, and the computer drops the knife. 

“Get the door,” I tell Eleana as I force the augment back into a period-accurate replica of a Klingon officer’s quarters, circa 2150s-2170s. The augment’s stopped struggling for some reason after I disarmed her, and doesn’t resist as I force her down on the bed. “OK, lady. We can do this one of two ways. You can answer my questions and do it honestly, or I’ll knock you right the fuck out and leave you tied up under the bed. Understand?” 

The aug hologram nods against my hand. I release her mouth, and she turns her head partway as I keep her arm pinned behind her. “You’re one of _ us _?” 

“Nope,” I reply. “Federa--Earth soldier. Though I am a monster like you. Bioengineered by Section 31 while I was unable to consent. Real shitshow. Now, where’s your boss, where’s Soong, and where are the bioweapons?” 

“Why do you fight for Earth?” the holo-aug asks, confused. “They hate our kind!” 

I should divert back to the interrogation, but some part of me _ wants _ to justify myself to this thing. “‘Cause Earth’s my home,” I admit. “I was born there, my family lives there, what the Hell am I if I’m not loyal to my home?” 

“A home that’ll never let you be free!” the aug hisses. 

“I can pass,” I counter. “If I’m careful who I trust, I can be an asset for the Federation--uh, for Earth. If my family’s safe, if my country’s safe, that’s enough.” 

“That’s no life,” the augment says, and there’s no bile behind it this time, just sadness. 

“It’s a living,” I reply. “Now. Your boss, and Soong. Eleana, watch the door, will you, babe?” 

“Malik will be on the Bridge or in the Captain’s quarters,” the aug replies. “Will you kill me?” 

“Nah.” I sigh. “Look. I don’t want to kill you guys.” Hologram, yeah, but...when they talk to you, with modern levels of simulated realism, you kinda feel bad about treating ‘em like it, even if they’re not sentient holos like the Doctor EMH. And besides. They may be augments, but this one at least seems to be controlling the sociopathy. “I’ll kill if you guys force me to, yeah, but...I’m kinda tired of pointless pain and death. It’s been a long few years for me.” On the run, hiding in Cardassian space...Undine attack on Earth Spacedock...months of war with the Vaads, _ and _ I had to work with those two-faced zombie bastards on Kobali Prime (and yeah, after that crazy Romulan assassinated their General, the new leadership’s a lot more honest, but I don’t think _ anyone _ in Starfleet trusts the Kobali an inch after what they pulled with Harry Kim’s dimensional clone)--and, of course, the short, brutal war with the Iconians when they invaded the Milky Way. 

It’s been a _ long _ few years. 

“We just want to be free,” the holo-aug insists. “Please, we just want to bring the embryos to term, and raise them in peace. I don’t want any part in Malik’s plan, I swear!” 

“Malik’s plan?” I flip her over; she doesn’t try to break for it. 

“He’s going to use the bioweapons, I think on a Klingon colony. He talked to me about starting a war between Earth and the Klingons. But that’s crazy! If Earth hates us now, if he does that they’ll _ never _ stop hunting us!” 

“_ Fuck _ ,” I curse, and if I’m getting into the holo more than I normally do even though holos all feel _ weird _ now that my nose and ears and eyes are so insanely sensitive, so be it. For once I’m thinking about something other than Ellen Shaw. “I remember this from History, babe, the aug’s gonna try to use stolen disease samples to wipe out a Klingon colony. Tens of millions of innocent people.” 

“_ What? _ ” the aug hologram gasps. “He’d...but _ why _? They’re no threat! What’s to be gained?” 

“Sating his bloodlust,” I tell the holo. “We’re like that. Us augments. We like to kill.” 

“That seems hypocritical,” Eleana cuts in. “Weren’t you just talking about how you’re tired of pain and death?” 

“Uh…” I frown. “Look, just because I’ve got it under control, doesn’t mean it’s not _ there _ . Like, when I…” Goddamn it, I don’t want to finish with _ think about Shaw _. “...look, sometimes I want to beat the shit out of people.” 

“_ I _ want to do that sometimes,” Eleana remarks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but…” I stammer uselessly, unable to formulate a response, so like a coward I deflect. “Look, we’ve got a Khan wannabe to stop. You, aug--what’s your name, anyway?” 

“Persis,” she says. 

“Right, Persis. You gonna try to warn your buddies?” 

She frowns, looking down, then turns her head up at me. “Only if you don’t look me in the eyes and tell me you won’t kill my brothers and sisters.” 

I look the holo in the eyes. “Don’t worry. I may be good at killing, but my rifle has a stun setting for a reason. I’ll bag ‘em all alive, though I can’t promise unharmed if they get into melee range with a weapon.” 

She looks me in the eye, and after a long moment she nods. “Alright. There are eighteen of us, plus Father. Seventeen if you exclude me.” 

“Sixteen. I kayoed one of your boys and locked him in his room.” 

“He’s alive?” 

“He’ll have a Hell of a headache when he wakes up, but that’s it.” 

She nods again. “Alright then. I’ll stay here. You have my word.” 

“Fair enough.” I release her, and she makes no move to strike or run. “For what it’s worth, and I’m with Ambassador Archer on this point--I’m gonna advocate for mercy when we get you all back to Earth.” 

“Same here,” Eleana chimes in. “Being raised by one eccentric on a barren world isn’t a healthy upbringing--that’s a clear societal failure, and _ ought _ to be taken into account during sentencing.” 

Persis grimaces. “And Earth won’t kill us?” 

“Death penalty was abolished, even for augs,” I promise her. “Right after they got done hanging Colonel Green and the other Optimum leaders who EarthGov could convict on genocide charges. You’ll live, though you might be in prison.” 

“And you know,” Eleana adds, “it _ might _ just so happen that Ambassador Archer, you know, _ forgets _ to bring you back to Earth. Perhaps there’s a daring escape over Beta Rigel or something.” 

“Don’t count on that,” I add hastily, shooting my girl a confused look. “But I’ll do what I can to help you.” 

“So be it, then,” Persis bites out. “Stop Malik. I’ll...I’ll try to figure out what I want to do.” 

“Good luck,” I wish her honestly. “Hope you find the right path.” 

We leave her in there, sitting on the bed. Eleana’s quiet for a minute as I lead the way to the bird-of-prey’s bridge. “Rachel, are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” I reply with a bit of a rasp. “It’s just...you expect the aug to be a psycho, you know? But, even though it was a holo...I could almost believe that it, that _ she _ meant all of that.” 

***

_ Ellen Shaw. Section 31 safehouse, Regulon system. _

As safehouses go, I've had worse ones. Much worse. I’ve even got my own room this time. This place is an old manor house from Regulon’s colonial days—reminds me a bit of my parents’ vacation place in Tahiti, not sure if they still have it. Spacious, and on a hilltop with limited road approaches.

I’m watching the feed on the hidden cameras; the fuel cell van coming up the drive is a Regula 93, a local model common with businesses here. Probably a rental, given it’s a Ferengi behind the wheel.

He parks and gets out, then pulls an antigrav trolley from the back door of the van, pushing it briskly up the walk to the front door.

My knee still protests as I head for the door. He’s supposed to be bringing a replacement. About _ fucking _time. 

Jin Buhui, the new Director (though after the way she treated me after the Europa Nova mission she’s still just the _ Deputy _ Director as far as I’m concerned), and her black-clad bodyguards are already at the door when I get there. Big, hulking guys, the stereotypical black ops types. They're standing at ease. _ She _has a hand inside her business jacket. Compact, greying Chinese woman, her voice has just a hint of that Beijing-Mandarin accent and her grey eyes are colder than the Andorian poles. 

The door buzzes and Thug #1, the Coridanite, presses the intercom. “Code in.”

“_ Is today Tuesday? _”

“It’s got to be Tuesday somewhere.”

“_ Stipulated. Two jacks is a half-fizzbin, but you don’t want three. _”

“Three is a shralk. You get those, you get disqualified.”

“_ And nobody wants that. I want a king and a deuce. _”

Thug looks at the Deputy Director. She nods, and he opens the door. “Director,” the Ferengi says, grinning cheerfully.

“Grell. Were you followed?” she asks, taking her hand off her piece.

“You know me better than that.”

“You're out of uniform, too.”

He laughs at that. He’s wearing a blue suit jacket over a light gray shirt and pants, with a lobi crystal bolo tie and fucking _ cowboy boots _ . “See, I’ve always wondered why an off-the-books agency such as ourselves even _ has _ a uniform. Besides, black leather makes me chafe.”

“What's in the box?” I ask, gesturing at the crate on the trolley.

“Your new leg, Shaw,” he says, pulling it through the door behind him. “It’d better be as good as advertised, some of the parts cost me hundreds of bars of latinum. Where do you want to set up, your bedroom?”

“Let’s not.”

He gives me a funny look. “That wasn’t a come-on, Operator.”

“I know that, big-ears, I just don’t want to go under the knife in the place I gotta sleep.”

“Fine, lead the way, then. How’s business, Director?”

“Not good, Grell. I assume you’ve been following the news?”

“Hard to miss,” he affirms, starting to push the trolley into the drawing room. Thug #2, one of my old teammates, Karl Sanchez, moves ahead of them. “Your team really screwed the pooch on Europa Nova.”

“They had extra security, it’s not _ my _ fucking fault.” I’ve had this conversation so many times I’m almost tired of being angry. Almost. “I would’ve bagged those MACOs, at least, to eliminate the witnesses, and I had a good shot at capturing Subject 87, but that bitch Kanril Eleya blew the fucking wall open right in my face with enough redshirts to take on a Klingon raiding party.” 

“That’s neither here nor there, Operator Shaw,” the Director interjects. “Something leaked, and all I know is, it wasn’t you and it wasn’t me.”

I enter the drawing room behind them, and my knee finally seizes up entirely and I go down on my face, swearing. “_ FUCK! Fuck _ that _ fucking _ aug, and her cocksucking wrinklenose _ bitchwhore _—”

Strong arms grab me under both shoulders and manhandle me into one of the big plush easy chairs. “I’ll let that one go,” Grell hisses, letting go of my left arm, “and the comment about my ears earlier. Don’t say another word about Captain Kanril in my hearing, and mind you, these _ big ears _ are pretty good.”

“What, is she your _ girlfriend? _” I snark.

He sits down in the chair opposite, takes a cigar out of a box on the end table. “I was a merc for the House of Maang in the Dominion War, knew a woman like her. Young, rim girl, but Starfleet through and through. We met over a game of tongo.”

“She give good _ oo-mox _?”

He looks me straight in the eye as he smoothly cuts and lights the cigar. “She _ died _ saving my worthless _ life _ at Second Chin’toka, Shaw.”

I open my mouth to respond but he keeps talking. “Two years ago, Kanril Eleya hauled our bacon out of the fire, helped us shut down a rogue asset who’d used our support to set herself up a tidy little operation with the Orions. If it weren’t for Captain Kanril and her crew, thousands of Federation citizens would’ve been sold by the Theriull Syndicate, and _ we’d _ have been on the hook for it. She’s a good officer, a useful _ asset _.”

Something occurs to me and I give him a look as he puffs on the cigar, zooming in on his face with my cyberized eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. Her _ other _ assets must be pretty good, too,” I remark, pressing my shoulders into the chair and puffing out my chest. “That how it is with you and _ hoo-muns _, Grell? You could do better, these tits could’ve gotten me a job modeling underwear if I hadn’t had the talent for MACO. All-natural, too. Only part of me I haven’t had touched up.”

I look for a twitch, but he only narrows his eyes at me. “Now you’re gettin’ _ nasty _, Shaw.”

“Am I? You’re certainly talking her up a lot, and after she blew up _ my _ op.”

Grell takes another puff on the cigar and blows it out. “Director Jin?” he tosses to the other room.

“Yes, Grell?” she says, poking her head around the kitchen door.

He stands up, a little creakily, and straightens his bolo tie. “I think you should check with Operator Shaw here what _ implications _ your office has authorized her to make, if any.”

I slump back into the chair as a white-coated tech comes in and starts unpacking the crate. I didn’t get a thing. Maybe he _ wasn’t _ the leak.

“Thanks for the cigar, haven’t had Zeta Reticuli in years,” he says to the Deputy Director as I look out the window. I hear him walk out, then the door open and close.

Then Jin grabs me by the hair and forces my head back. I try to snap my hand up but she’s already hit the disconnect for my lower motor functions. “Operator Shaw,” she says into my face, “Acting Deputy Director Grell is not in your chain of command. He is not your problem. Keep your eye on the ball.”

“You fucking b—” That’s when what she said hits me. “Wait—_ Acting Deputy Director? _ I thought Paula Abdullayeva ran that section.”

“And she’s under house arrest facing a federal indictment.”

“And you’re letting that _ go? _ She’s one of ours!”

“So was former Director Drake.”

“Drake was a fucking _ moron _ , got a _ Galaxy _-class starship blown up by the Klingons, then was stupid enough to meet that Bajoran bitch of 87’s in person!”

“And Abdullayeva was ‘stupid enough’ to leave an accounting trail leading to our operation on Paquin.”

“That op was over and done with four years ago!” I’m so angry it takes me a second to notice the tech just cut into my bum knee, _ without _ painkillers. I’ll have to make that shithead sorry later.

“Section 31 cannot afford to tolerate mistakes at this juncture. Something _ you _ should keep firmly in mind.” She lets go of my hair and strides back out of the room.

“That… fucking…” I look over at Karl. “You believe that?”

“_ Ay, chingada _ , wake the fuck up, Commander!” he snaps back at me. He never used to swear. “We’re not a state secret anymore, we’ve been officially disavowed! We’re a _ terrorist organization! _ It's not about preserving the Federation anymore, it's about _ damage control! _ She’s gotta stop the bleeding!”

“‘Stop the bleeding’? Paula’s been in the agency for thirty _ years! _ And she just tosses her aside?”

“Yeah. What do you think that says about _ us? _ I got a warrant on my ass, so do you. You really think she won’t burn us both if she has to?”

“I… she… _ FUCK! _”

***

_ Acting Deputy Director Grell. Private room, Federation Transport Guild space-liner _ Tiburon _ , leaving the Regulon system _. 

Hyper-vigilance takes a lot out of a man. Or a Ferengi in this case. Grell didn’t allow himself to stop checking for a tail until the liner went to warp and he was safely ensconced in his stateroom.

Then he collapsed on the bed. “Son of a grub…” He couldn’t believe he’d talked his way out of there with his ears still attached: Shaw’s cybernetics were supposed to make her almost as good of a lie detector as Rachel Connor’s bio-enhancements.

_ I think I’m getting too old for this spy crap. Maybe Kanril had a point. _

***

_ Rachel. USS Bajor holodecks, deck 12. _

I kick the door to the Klingon bridge clean out of its rails with one boot, then stun the first aug to turn towards me with a double-tap. Decent enough model of how it’d work in real life; I can take a few more shots of even a modern phaser, but I’m augmented beyond even a Khan-type so it’s not really a fair comparison. Aug #2, another woman, raises a disruptor, and Eleana shoots her as I drop to my knees, swing my body forward on my left hand, and lash out with both legs to take the staggered augment clear off of her feet. Back onto both hands with a flex of my back, push off, and the handspring takes me to my feet on top of the fallen holo-aug, causing me to briefly lose my balance before I grab the console to stabilize myself. The holo-aug shifts under me, so I pull my backup phase pistol and stun her twice as I lever myself over the console to avoid incoming fire. That works; the third aug nearly tags me with a disruptor shot, but he’s off-balance from the sheer shock, and Eleana tags him anyway, before I pull the phase pistol up and hit him a second time, and the aug falls. 

“You good?” I ask. Eleana’s flushed, but nods; OK, she likes seeing me kick ass. Note that for if I ever feel up to having sex again. 

“Ah, yes...that was..._ wow _!” 

I grin in spite of myself. _ B’wasst Allah _, it feels good. And she’s so damn pretty like this, too--I’m so lucky to have her, I swear, it’s like the universe is trying halfheartedly to make up for all the shit it’s put me through. 

The door to the Klingon Captain’s private office hisses open, and I turn. A young, white male aug, scruffy hair down over his ears and a nasty little smirk, comes out armed with a knife. “Saul! What’s—oh. MACOs? How did _ two _ of you beat my men?” 

“Should’ve been minding your security footage,” I snarl, baring my teeth. “I just took your boys out—well, Eleana helped, but I tagged the first one solo at least—in about ten seconds flat. You get this one chance to surrender.” 

“I am of the blood of Khans,” he snarls. “It is not in the nature of the superior man to surrender.” 

“Big mistake,” I raise the pistol, but he’s already throwing the knife, and I twist out of the way but it hits the pistol, which gets tugged out of my hand by the holodeck’s gravy plating as the holo-knife hits it. He’s already charging with a psychopathic smirk, and I pull my fist around to sock him in the ribs with everything I’ve got. 

The hologram goes flying like a rag doll, crashing into a support beam, and crumples to the ground with a groan. “_ Ohhh _… your strength… you are one of us? But—how can such greatness be broken to the slavers’ leash of Earth?” 

“I’m not a _ slave _ ,” I snarl. “I’m a patriot.” I grab him as he rises with one hand, blocking his rapidly strengthening blows as best I can, and ram him hard into the wall. “Babe, stun him, will you?” This guy makes me sick just looking at him, I _ hate _ being reminded of what I could be if I lose control. 

“You are a slave to their weak world order!” Malik insists. “A world that _ denies _ our strength, our superiority— _ look at us _ , woman! We are so much stronger, faster, more intelligent than them! We have _ willpower _ and _ aggression _ like the finest of purebred wolves, and they seek to turn us into lapdogs!” 

“Quiet,” I snarl, punching him in the face hard enough that the holo rapidly registers a black eye, and he groans. “Purebred wolves? Superiority? You’re the monster aug parents warn their kids about! At least the woman had some self-control.” 

“Persis is weak,” he wheezes back. “She holds herself back. At least _ you _ give in to your passion!” 

“_ Shut up _ !” I hiss. “I’m not like that! _ I’m _ in control! _ I _ make the decisions!” I’m shaking, my legs trembling. 

“Then you’re weak!” he insists. I slap a hand over his mouth. 

“_ Shut the fuck up! I was doing this to _ forget _ ! _” 

“Baby,” Eleana begins. I shake my head, a guttural sob working its way up my throat and forcing itself out of me. 

“She’s fucking everywhere! I’m never going to fucking escape!” Eleana’s at my side now, one hand hovering just inches from my shoulder—she probably doesn’t want to scare me. “Even taking a break she’s here!” 

“How is this supposed to tie back to Shaw???” 

“_ Everything _ does! She got inside my fucking head, and legally she didn’t even do anything all that wrong ‘cause of the Zurich conventions. And I’m fucking _ scared _!” I punch the wall inches from Holo-Aug’s face, and he flinches as the holodeck registers an impact powerful enough to dent the ancient Klingon ship’s wall three inches deep. I stand there, shaking like a leaf, gasping for breath, and slowly lean forwards to lean more against the wall than my captive. 

“I’m scared shitless, Eleana,” I rasp all quiet-like, “and I don’t know how to beat her, because I’m scared that the part of me that wants to kick her ass so much is the same rabid monster that pulled _ this _ stunt we’re roleplaying two hundred and fifty years ago.” 

“Rachel, you have a _ right _ to be angry!” 

“_ How do I know if it’s even _ ** _me_ **?” 

The hologram interrupts me by kneeing me in the gut. Hurts like a motherfucker even with the safeties on. “You should just give in to it,” he sneers as I stagger back. “They say it’s our nature to be violent; well, what’s so wrong with—”

A Klingon disruptor pulse burns through his chest as I regain my balance. The hologram registers a brief moment of shock, then crumples. As sterile as this odorless, electronic holo-world without the subtle noises of humanoid life is to my hypersensitive senses, the shot still makes me freeze. 

It’s the other aug, the woman, Persis, standing by the door I kicked down. Her hands—the holo-reproduction’s hands shake as the disruptor drops. “I was just scared,” she whispers. “We all were. We just wanted to be free.” 

Something about that hits me like a gut-punch. Not sure why. _ Scared _ isn’t something you usually associate with augs, is that why? 

“I understand,” Eleana says, shucking her headgear entirely and lowering her replica pulse rifle. “I understand you perfectly, Persis. Who doesn’t want that?” 

“Father told us that Earth hates and fears us. I don’t know why Malik wanted to use the diseases, if he hit that Klingon colony… Earth would hunt us forever, and the Klingons too.” 

“Some people just want to watch it all burn,” I rasp. But it doesn’t make sense. That’s what _ augs _ want, right? Raving monsters that love to kill, love the blood and piss and screaming. They want to see people broken and bloody like I want to see Shaw, right? Superior ability, superior ambition. 

“Some do,” Eleana allows. “Maybe one in ten thousand. That doesn’t justify blanket discrimination.” She reaches out gently, and the computer has the hologram let her touch it. “You were taught to hate and fear for more than a decade in your most vulnerable years. Khan was trained to kill. That can be overcome. How many baseline Humans, baseline people of _ any _ species have been born with mental health issues? How many people with mental health issues ever become dangers to society? So Khan-grade augments are predisposed to aggression. That’s _ one _ facet of a personality, a couple of loci in a genome with tens of thousands.” 

She pats the hologram gently on the shoulder. “You’re not a monster. You shouldn’t _ fear _ yourself. All you need is to _ know _ yourself; everybody’s got a weakness, but we’re thinking creatures, we can work through our weaknesses.” She turns towards me as she says it, and it’s not just the hologram she’s talking to. 

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My vision’s going blurry. Fuck. I don’t know what to say. 

“So maybe we should drop the Trumpist crap about how we should lock up and dehumanize people with mental health issues--even if they _ are _ genetic, even if they _ are _ potentially dangerous--and trust that the Federation _ has _ a legal system that punishes people for crimes they _ have _ committed and not those they _ might _ commit?” 

I never thought of it that way. I slump back against the wall, clutching my head as I try to process. I vaguely hear Eleana freeze the program, and she slips up to me, slow and gentle. “Rachel? Talk to me, baby.” 

“How can it be _ me _ ?” I rasp. “I _ remember _ me. I was a good soldier. A good Earth girl. A bit of the barracks slut maybe, but I pulled my weight in a firefight so people liked me. I got drunk, partied, got laid with a string of strangers, then I got up the next morning and I did my job and fought and bled like a _ professional _ for the Federation. I was strong and tough and cool and collected and I had _ guts _ , damn it. I didn’t _ hurt _ this much all the _ fucking _time!” 

“There’s nothing wrong with hurting,” Eleana murmurs, sidling around behind me to wrap her arms around my torso from behind. “I keep telling you this and I _ mean _ it. It’s OK to be in pain, Rachel. It’s perfectly normal, and it doesn’t mean you’re weak or a bad person or anything. It just means you’re hurting, and you need and deserve some help.” 

“I don’t know why you even bother,” I rasp. “Why bother with me when you, you’re fucking gorgeous and so goddamn perfect, you could have anyone, why choose the fucked-up aug?” 

“Because you’re beautiful, Rachel.” She tips my chin up so she looks down into my eyes with a soft smile. “Alright, maybe I like a woman who’s a project, but you’re a beautiful woman with a beautiful soul. Cracks and insecurities and warts and pain and all. I’m a freaking empath, Rachel, I can _ feel _ every emotion you feel whenever I’m around you, and I love it. These past nine months I’ve gotten to know the _ real _ you, not what you think you are or what you thought you were, and you are such a selfless, kind, loving, empathetic person that I want to cry every time I feel your sorrow. And you _ know _ I feel it right down to my bones.” Fair point. Empathic senses can be a bitch, I guess, though they aren’t on my list of many, many artificially added abilities. 

“I want you to be happy, Rachel. You deserve it, and I will _ fight _ for you to be happy. Even if I have to drag you every step of the way.” 

Part of me wants to object, a black worm bubbling under my thoughts, but again I open my mouth and nothing comes out. After a few moments just sitting, rocking, unable to force words out, my vision starts to blur from tears, and I start to look away. 

Her hand takes me by the chin again, and she gently coaxes me up to look in her dark eyes again. “I’m going to kiss you now,” she murmurs. “If you don’t want me to, please say so or push me away.” 

I don’t do either. 

She kisses me. It’s warm and wet and soft, and her hand wraps around me to draw me in closer. 

I feel like I’m drowning and she’s my life preserver. 

I think I’m OK with that. 

***

_ Captain Kanril Eleya. USS Bajor wardroom, Sherman system, near Deep Space K-7. Two months after the ambush on Europa Nova. _

“We’ve got ‘em,” Bev Kree-Sanat snarls, sipping her third coffee in two hours with a vicious grin. “Got the sons of bitches thanks to Yoyodyne incompetence. They shipped in a set of advanced bioengineering gear a month ago to an off-the-books site in the Donatu sector. Our forensic accountants spotted it, then we got an operative in on the next supply shipment. He got eyes on Shaw.” 

“Live capture still what zh’Zoarhi wants?” I ask. 

“Yeah, the chair of the Council’s intelligence committee is riding her ass something fierce, wants an arrest and fast. Something about how the Federation can’t have rogue off-the-books agencies because they’ll spin off into domestic terror groups like Section 31. But I haven’t gotten to the juicy bit yet,” Kree-Sanat grins. She pulls up a blurry snap on the holoprojector—a Human woman, late ‘50s or early ‘60s maybe, generic-looking eastern Asian of some sort, I don’t know Human ethnic groups well enough to tell from where. “Jin Buhui. Former Cerberus Industries councillor, resigned in protest of a bid the Cerberus union council voted in favor of to sell to the Cardassians during the ‘90s, then went off the grid. Suspected of having ties to Section 31 for years, but we finally got her. My agent says she was addressed as ‘Director’, looks like she’s Franklin Drake’s replacement.” 

Roxy whistles. “Bag Shaw _ and _ the new head of Section 31? This is almost too good.” 

“Odds that your man was made?” char Makal, the scarred Tellarite captain on my right, asks. 

“He didn’t notice anything suspicious. Twenty years’ field experience, so I trust his judgement.” 

“What kind of defenses are we looking at?” Ocett, the Cardassian who helped me grill Shaw’s parents, asks from my left. 

“Nothing orbital, this is a black site on an otherwise-uninhabited planetoid. They’ve got two nasty planetside emplacements, though, and heavy-duty shielding. Looks like they stole some parts from Iconian derelicts.” 

“So we can expect heavy resistance, worse if we get bogged down,” I summarize, the Bolian on Ocett’s left nodding along. “Fighters?” 

“There’s a shuttlebay, but he didn’t see any patrols.” 

“It’s a black site, though, they might keep on silent running as long as possible. Okay. We’re going to need a lightning strike, take down the weapons emplacements and blast a hole in the shields, then beam down troops. How many MACO teams’ve we got?” 

“I have Unit 64 over on _ Hanoi _,” char Makal offers. “Lieutenant Commander t’Sehalien’s delta-rated, they’ve seen combat against the Iconians, Orion Syndicate, and a skirmish with the Tzenkethi.” 

“Only two?” I get nods in response, and a grimace from Mayhew. MACO must be stretched thin, too—Hell, all of Starfleet is. “Then we have to deploy the grunts with them, given the schematics I’m looking at.” Kree-Sanat helpfully manipulates the holo to zoom in on them. It’s a _ big _ site, especially compared to the last asteroid base we raided. “I’ve got about two dozen field-capable infantry on the _ Bajor _. If you have combat-rated Security people we send them in too.” Part of me marvels at how easily I’m slipping into field command. What next, a desk job? “Three-pronged assault if possible, do some damage, one team to hold down an evac point as the rest go after the targets. Kree-Sanat, target priority?” 

“Shaw’s still the primary target. We’re assuming that Jin will be heavily guarded and ready to rabbit whenever necessary, consider her a target of opportunity.” 

I nod along. Fair enough. “We go in, grab Shaw, take the facility if we can. Throw that traitor in my brig and ship her off to Facility 4028 where she belongs. Crash-translate in-system inside effective combat range, it’ll mean fancy flying but it’s worth it for the element of surprise. Don’t give them even a minute.” 

“Do we have Lieutenant Connor for ground assault?” Mox, the Bolian Captain of the _ Mahapiya Luta _, asks. 

“Not yet,” I grimace. “Shree thinks she’s making progress but she’s not ready yet. If she gets the all-clear, she’s on the mission.” 

“That’s going to affect everything,” Mox observes. 

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” char Makal growls. Mox shoots her a glare but stays silent. “Mayhew, can you get more MACO forces?” 

“We lost more than twenty full units in the Iconian War,” Roxy replies with a shake of her head. “I’ve got half the operators that normally report to me deployed to Cardassian and what used to be Talarian space putting out brushfires. I can ask for Unit 82 to be reassigned, but they’ve got a new officer after the last one got killed by a booby trap in Sector 221-G. Pirate base, tough suckers.” 

“I can go up to Y’Chell,” I offer. The head of MACO and I hit it off pretty well at the after-party for the formal medal ceremony after the Iconian War. Apparently my Medal of Honor looks fetching around my neck, a sentiment that Gaarra wholeheartedly agreed with after Y’Chell apologized for flirting with a married woman. I’d owe him a favor but he could probably get me somebody. “Didn’t he just commission a Horta as a Lieutenant?” 

“I’d like to see Shaw deal with acid burning through that phaser-proof implant shirt of hers,” char Makal snarls. 

“Yeah, and she got deployed to the Tzenkethi border,” Mayhew counters. “Until they get integrated quantum slipstream implemented, and that’s looking like next year, it’ll take days for her to get here, _ if _ Y’Chell OKs it.” 

“… and Section 31 could figure out our plan and make us,” I add. “Backup’s not coming, then. So, we count on superior gear and training, the element of surprise, and we hope that Connor gets her head screwed on straight soon.” We all share a grimace. “Right then. Let’s make contingency plans and hope for the best.” 

***

_ Rachel. _

“Clear!” I bark, replicating a new grenade for my pulsewave phaser’s attached launcher. “Luiz, cover me!” 

Silence. I stop on my way down the dull gray corridor, risking a look back from the door at the end. “Luiz?” 

Static. There’s _ nobody there _ . No Luiz, no Kallio, no Lamont, K’tar, no nobody. The _ fuck _? 

Mission. I’ve got a mission. Got to stop Shaw. Fight her. But where’s my squad. 

“Connor to _ Bajor _, my unit’s gone.” 

Nothing. Just static. I swallow my fear and push on. My pulse pounds in my ears, and the door seems to _ thud _ along with the beat. My breath is loud, harsh, and unsteady, and I lick my lips as I palm the door lock to open it…

“Hi there, 87,” Ellen Shaw hisses. My heart leaps into my throat. 

“Rachel! Help me!” Eleana begs. Shaw has her pinned, a service knife to her throat. My girlfriend’s eyes are blown wide open, pupils dark as she pleads for me; I take a step forward…

“Ah-ah!” Shaw snaps, and her knife draws a line of blood from Eleana’s slender throat. “Back, dog!” 

“No!” I blurt out. “Please, don’t hurt her!” 

“Rachel!” Eleana whimpers. Shaw glances at her, then at me, and my blood runs cold at her grin. 

“Ooh, who’s this? Your crush?” She jabs the point up into Eleana’s chin, and my girl whimpers again. 

“Don’t touch her!” I snarl. “Don’t you _ fucking _ touch her, bitch!” 

“I touch who I please,” Shaw snarls. Her other arm reaches down, and I snarl incoherently as she gropes Eleana’s plump breast. “I’m _ Ellen fucking Shaw _. You can’t stop me, 87. You can’t protect anyone from me, not this little half-breed, not your squad, not even yourself.” 

“I’ll kill you,” I hiss. “I’ll _ fucking _ kill you!” 

Shaw smirks. “Oh yeah? And what will that fix?” Her knife hand moves like lightning, and Eleana’s throat is sliced open, and my girlfriend, wonderful kind soft Eleana with her sure grip and her warm, strong, slender hands and her sweet nothings in my ear, is choking her life-blood out on the ground. 

“_ NO! _” I stumble forwards, and Shaw drops Eleana to the deck as I desperately fall to my knees, clutching my girl to me as I try in vain to staunch the bleeding. She’s shuddering now in convulsions of shock, her eyes wide as she stares up into mine. 

“You don’t get any of this shit, dog,” Shaw snarls in my ear. “What made you think that a little aug-worm like you was worthy of it? Ugly little nobody from Detroit, fucking aug-swine, too cowardly to let your family know you were alive, hiding like a rat from Section 31, what gives you the right, huh? What gives you the right to live when good men die? Your last second died for you, Malyn on that farming colony died because of you, all those civilians on Kora II died because of you. Malyn took you in, bitch, she thought you were a nice little Human girl, someone to help with the chores, and what did you get her? A phaser blast in the dark and a hole in her chest!” 

I sob as Eleana’s gaze loses focus, her blood flow petering off. Shaw’s vicious grip squeezes the back of my neck hard enough to make the bones creak. I kneel there holding my girlfriend’s body in my arms, her blood soaking my hands and my uniform, and I cry because I don’t know what else to do. 

“You’re a selfish little bitch,” Shaw whispers in my ear. 

“Fuck you,” I choke out. 

“Oh, I think I’ll fuck _ you _ , aug-cunt.” She tears me away, and I don’t know where my armor’s gone, my uniform’s gone too, and the grey corridor is gone too, replaced by the sterile, horrible white of the torture chamber, and Shaw’s over me, in matte-black Section 31 fatigues. Something’s wrong, I’m moving like a slug, slow and weak and uncoordinated. “Selfish little aug-swine who ruins everyone she touches. I guess a pity fuck’s not out of the question.” And she’s on me, I punch her and my knuckles _ crack _ on her skull and I scream in pain, she has one hand on my throat and the other forcing two fingers into me. “Look at you, whore,” she hisses, and I gasp in pain and mortification as she pinches my clit sharply. “What gave you the dumbass idea you had the right to anything? You ain’t worth shit and I’ll do what I want with—” 

Something shifts in the air and Shaw stops, freezing as I hear a voice in my ear. _ Eleana _ . “ _ Ssh-ssh-ssh _ ,” the murmur comes. “ _ I’m here, baby. You’re safe. Safe in my arms. You’re strong and brave and beautiful and I’m always here for you _.” 

Safe in her arms. Here for me. The thoughts filter through me slowly, and Shaw snarls as I shift under her, strength flooding my limbs. My teeth _ shift _ in my mouth, I can feel it, blocky Human things twisting into serrated triangles. 

“What’s going on?” Shaw hisses. “You’re nothing, Rachel! You can’t fight me!” 

“_ It’s just a dream, Rachel. She can’t hurt you. I’ve got you. My strong, brave, beautiful warrior. My real-life superhero. _” Phantom hands on my arms, warm and soft and strong. I lash out, and Shaw’s thrown off me with a scream of incoherent rage, and I haul myself to my feet, my muscles rippling with inhuman strength under my skin. 

I’m an augment, yeah. I can snap a good-sized tree in half, heal from nearly any injury, smell lies, all that. My teeth are serrated blades and my skin sometimes changes colors, even tears off and gets replaced with armor if I get hurt. 

“I’ve failed people.” For some reason I’m saying it aloud now, my skin replaced by chitin plating. Shaw scrambles back as I stalk forwards on twisted animal feet, warm breath on my ear and slim arms on mine as I feel a phantom of Eleana pressing up against my back. “I’ve fucked up, I’ve lost, I’ve hurt and shat and bled and seen things nobody should ever see.” 

“Damn right!” Shaw snarls. “You’re a failure! All your power and you’re just a weak little dog who breaks at a little torture!” Her face is twisted, the supermodel features melting into liquid, her lush red locks falling out of her professional styling into a balding patchy rat’s nest. 

“I’m _ human _,” I whisper. And I punch her in the face. 

Shaw falls flat on her ass with a scream of rage and denial. I stalk forwards, my breath coming hot and eager. “Humans fuck up. Humans lose, and fail, and bleed.” I lean down and haul her shuddering form up with one hand. “You _ won’t _ beat me again. And you _ can’t _ take my humanity.” 

Shaw looks up into my eyes, and a cold shock runs through me. Her face isn’t melting anymore, and her hair’s stopped falling out…

Because the face that meets my eyes is _ me _. 

A twisted, snarling, dark-gazed thing with my face, its eyes burning with hatred. “_ We’re the monster, Rachel! _” 

“No,” I whisper. “_ You _ are.” The other me struggles, her body twisting, pink and cylindrical and ringed like a giant worm. “I want you to leave me the fuck alone,” I sob, tears coming to my eyes. “You and Shaw and everything else. Why the fuck can’t you just _ leave me alone _ ? All I want is to live my life and serve my country and protect my people. Why won’t you fuckers just _ let me be _?” 

“I can’t,” the twisted worm-thing with my face sneers. “I’m you, Rachel. And I always will be.” 

For a moment my grip slackens, and she hisses, baring needle-sharp teeth as her worm-body shifts with a ripple of muscle. But Eleana’s voice is in my ear, her breath tickling the shell, her arms wrapping around my chest and her legs twined around mine as her breasts press against my back. 

“_ You are loved, baby. You are strong and brave and loved. You are not alone, you are not weak, and you are not broken. It’s OK to be hurt. It’s OK to need help. Because there are people here for you. People who love and support and care for you. And you will get better, with that love and support and care. _” 

“Just because you’re a part of me,” I rasp, squeezing the worm-thing tighter as she squeals with pain, “doesn’t give you the right to fuck me up.” 

“I’ll always be a part of you,” the worm chokes. “And I _ won’t _ be silenced!” 

“And so will I be a part of _ you _ ,” I snarl, and I crush her until she disintegrates into black ash in my hands. “And I _ will _ be stronger than you, damn it.” 

The room dissolves around me, and I’m falling, falling, _ falling _…

Eleana’s embrace folds around me, warm and comforting, as I drop into the abyss. 

***

_ Rachel _

I swim to consciousness slowly, Eleana’s heartbeat thumping way too fast for her to still be asleep against my sweat-soaked back. I shift, and she pulls herself up and partway over me with a hum. 

“Are you alright, Rachel?” she asks, one hand scratching gently in my hair. 

“Yeah,” I reply, turning over to face her, my voice ragged but steady. “Had a dream.” 

“Mmh. Do you want to talk about it?” 

I cock my head in thought, then shrug. “Not much to it. Was fucked up to start. Another nightmare with Shaw. Then I heard your voice in my ear, and that helped.” She blushes adorably, and I reach up around her shoulders. “Hey. Babe. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“Mmh, well, you saved my life from Cardassian terrorists, so I think I’m still the one coming out ahead here.” 

I find myself chuckling in spite of myself as I push myself up to her, my other arm going up behind her head and pulling her to my lips. Her arm goes around behind mine, and she squeezes me close for a moment before we pull back. 

“I love you,” I whisper. 

“I love you too,” she murmurs back, and leans in for another kiss. 

***

_ Rachel. _

“It all comes down to me,” I tell Doc Shree. “Shaw’s just the catalyst.” 

It’s a few hours into the day. I’ve done my standard weights and cross-training routine instead of another round of simulated fights, and now I’m in the shrink’s office again. 

“Could you explain that a little bit for me?” the Andorian asks. 

“Yeah.” I lick my lips, hands clasped in front of me. “I’ve spent the last three years hating myself for what Section 31 did to me. And that let Shaw in.” I suck in a breath, then let it out with a hiss. “Yeah. It’s not just that I’m _ me _ still. It’s that I always was, that… a bunch of stuff I didn’t even question, it was wrong. It’s _ me _ that let Shaw in, part of me anyway, my own stupid thoughts. And they _ are _ stupid, it’s just me hating on myself for something that isn’t my fault. 

“So I’m gonna focus on goals. Catch Shaw. Figure out a way to stop being such a racist. Remember that people give a shit about me. You know, basic stuff.” 

“You seem calmer than you were the last time we talked.” 

I snort. “Last time I was still trying to beat my way through my hangups and pissed off over Shaw getting inside my head again. Now…” I blow out another breath. “Honestly… I just want it all to stop. I want to feel whole—no, that’s the wrong word. I want to feel _ free _ again.” 

“Talk me through that, Lieutenant?” 

“I don’t like being scared of myself,” I admit. “I mean, it’s not going to be overnight? But I think I’ve sort of… got a new way of looking at it. I kind of, I dunno, visualized it in a dream, that kind of thing. And in the morning it clicked for me.” 

“Go on.” 

“You know, for all the shit I’ve been through, and I can’t call myself lucky because that’d be goddamn dishonest, I’ve still got a lot in my corner. I’ve got four _ damn _ good men working for me, a wonderful girlfriend who doesn’t even blink about holding me while I sleep and literally picked me up and carried me to bed when I was breaking down, my family’s in my court ‘til the end of time...Hell, I’m pretty sure even the Captain’s at my back to some extent. And you know, that’s a _ lot _. Shaw’s out there, Section 31 only cares about what use she is. If we’re about even in a fight, even if she’s got the edge, I’m still gonna win, because I’ve got more and better people at my back.” 

“And?” 

I shrug. “I’m gonna do my damndest to be happy. Gotta remember the good for all I bitch about all the shit. Try this optimism crap for a spin. What d’you think, Doc, good plan?” 

Shree’s face is unreadable as she writes something on her PADD. “I think, Lieutenant, that you’ve been very insightful here today.” 

“…alright then.” I shrug. No point asking to be allowed back on duty. Doc’ll make that decision herself, and the Captain won’t do a damn thing about it. 

I can’t deny it gnaws at me a bit, though. I gotta be there, for my men, for the Federation...and, yeah, for myself. I _ have _ to take that psychopath down, and get some justice for all the people she’s murdered. 

This isn’t about my job or my mind anymore. This is about Shaw being a fucking monster. 

***

_ Kanril Eleya. USS _ Bajor _ , approaching the outer planetoid belt (“Kuiper belt”) of the Kinkuthanza system, Beta Quadrant _. 

“Captain on the Bridge!” 

“At ease.” I nod to Tess. “Get me the task force.” 

“You’re on the encrypted comm, ma’am.” 

“Good news!” I announce. “Lieutenant Connor’s fit for duty, according to Doctor Shree. I just sent her down to the armory to meet with Unit 64 and get suited up.” 

“_ Then we’ve got a good shot at the ground assault, _ ” char Makal growls. “ _ What changed _?” 

“I don’t know the specifics, but she’s looking a bit more put-together. Don’t think she’s healed yet, but she’s coming at it from a new angle, from what Shree says. This means we’re using Plan A. Unit 64 heads for the mess hall, Unit 131 for the power plant. Any questions?” 

“_ No, ma’am, _” Ocett says for the rest of them. 

“Good.” I straighten my uniform. “We make the system in twenty minutes. Biri, sensor resolution on the base?” 

“I’ve narrowed it down to one of two planetoids within thirty or forty million kilometers of each other, though they’re moving in erratic orbits opposite each other. I should have better resolution in five minutes.” 

“Good. Kanril to Engineering.” 

“_ ChEng here. _” 

“How’s my baby holding up?” 

“_ We’re keeping her steady and the emissions at a minimum, but we’re going to need to do a double-check of the nacelles and posterior plasma vents after this. Just don’t ask me to keep the warp signature quiet if we have to make a sudden turn _.” 

“Don’t worry, Bynam, Biri should have the exact site within five minutes.” I settle back in my chair, the hum of my ship like a warm blanket for my ears. Twenty minutes. The wait’s the second-hardest part of missions like this. 

The hardest is sending good men and women like my MACOs and assault unit down to a planetside mission and not being able to go down myself to help them. 

Prophets, some days I miss boot camp. What the _ phekk _ is wrong with me that I miss boot camp? 

***

_ Rachel Connor. USS _ Bajor _ armory. _

It’s a bit of a MACO tradition that if two units are gonna be working together on an op, both get together in the armory beforehand to get to know each other. Good to know somebody a bit so you can communicate. Helps plan out a general attack plan beforehand. And it makes you fight harder if you know the other guys on your side. Or so the wisdom goes. 

Unit 64’s already in _ Bajor _’s armory and sorting through their gear as my boys and I trot in. They salute and straighten as they see us, and we return the favor. 

Squad leader’s a Romulan, two full and one black pips. Middle-aged, black hair, exotic green eyes. Pretty sure I know her from somewhere--Fleet report or something maybe? 

“Nice to meet you,” I open with, offering the Rommie a hand. “Lieutenant Rachel Connor, MACO unit 131. Stationed to USS _ Bajor _, obviously.” 

“Kimara i’Kinshasa t’Sehalien,” she replies, accepting and shaking. “Lieutenant-Commander, MACO unit 64. Stationed to USS _ Hanoi _. Surrogate mother to this pack of overgrown kids.” She’s got a firm handshake. Inspires confidence. 

“Oh, I know you! You pulled that rescue op in the Xarantine system!” 

“That was us,” the enlisted man behind her confirms. “Petty Officer Abd el Aziz ibn Abd el Sayaf al-Barakai. Unit 64, obviously. Marksman.” 

“al-Barakai? Oh, you’re from that puny-ass colony world, the neo-Kharijites on that barely-habitable rock near the Klingon border.” 

“That’s us,” Abd el Aziz chuckles. “You know who we are?” 

“I was in the region back in ‘05. Got into a dustup with Klingon raiders in the system. Also, my mom’s an Ibadi, so I took the time to learn a bit about the local religious sects in my spare time for kicks.” 

He grimaces at that. “In all fairness, we’re only broadly similar to the original flavor. The name got picked centuries ago.” 

“What religion isn’t? My family’s old neighbor the rabbi was nothing like Old Testament-era Yahweh cultists, still technically the same religion. The Klingons only started really _ worshipping _ Kahless hundreds of years after he died, and if I remember my ancient history elective right the Boreth myth is a later addition some time after the Hur’q era. All I know about you folks is, you’ve got serious balls and you technically worship the same sky daddy as my mother does.” 

“Guess that makes sense,” he admits. “Hey, uh, weird question, but there’s a rumor going around that the Romulan Praetor adopted you into his clan for saving his life at Iconia?” 

“Uh, nothing like that,” I reply, rubbing the back of my head in embarrassment. “He found where I was recovering three hours after we bugged out, offered me Imperial citizenship with sped-up naturalization for leading the commando strike on the Iconian flagship. Guess he was really grateful we used that flagship to take out an Elachi capital right before it was about to destroy his _ Scimitar _ .” What I don’t mention is that he figured out what I am and _ that’s _ when he offered citizenship. Rommies and their instincts for politics. 

“_ Damn _,” mutters the stout, dark-skinned woman with partial Klingon ridges. “And here I was thinking you’d at least get a promotion out of that.” 

I shrug. “I spent a couple years out of commission, I’m lucky I wasn’t demoted procedurally after I came back. Nice to meet you, Petty Officer…” 

“Shakuntala Chunapregadda. Unit 64. Close combat, field engineering, and demolitions.” 

“What is that, Hindi?” 

“Probably. My _ daadi _ ’s side is from Karnataka, Kannada-speakers. I get my looks from her side of my mother’s family. _ Daada _’s a Maratha from Mumbai, I grew up speaking Hindi and English with a bit of slang from both their local languages. My mother was an Ensign in the fleet, had a one-night stand with some Klingon guy, implant failed, then left me with her parents to focus on her career.” 

I wince. “Sorry to hear that. I was the flake in my family, regretting every second of it now.” 

“Yeah, that was me, too. I ran away when I was 18, tried to get into a Klingon trade ship. Felt like I didn’t fit in, you know. Rebellious kid. But then the tensions got really bad and the captain told me to get out while the getting was good, ended up back on Earth, enlisted when the war broke out, got posted to the Romulan border to do nothing, and decided to train for special forces since it wasn’t like I was getting anything done watching the Rommies tear themselves apart and the only thing that could please my mother is getting my own five-year mission.” 

“_ Damn _. Well, congratulations, making it this far’s an achievement in and of itself.” 

“Someone should tell my mother the survey-ship _ Captain _ that. I got black belts in six martial arts and she can barely be civil to me over holiday dinner.” 

“My mother named me _ Legolas _,” Luiz rumbles. 

“Eh, that’s not so…” 

“_ Legolas Mary-Sue Moonchild _.” 

“…Alright, you win.” We all share a chuckle. 

“I’m Mo Goldstein,” the next guy, another Human, introduces himself. “Petty officer, second class, heavy weapons. I’m a big fan of your work at Iconia—then again, who isn’t?” 

I manage a chuckle at that. “Guess you’ve got a point there. Why the tattoos on your neck?” 

“Oh. Uh, the star of David’s for my mother, she was from Tel Aviv, the crescent moon’s for Dad, he was from Palestine, one of the neighborhoods in Gaza near the big ‘this is why imperialism is bad even if the imperialists are themselves a protected class’ museum.” 

“Think I’ve been to the place. Inland border, to the north?” 

“That’s the one.” 

“Hope they’re doing well.” 

He grimaces. “Paris. They worked as analysts during the bombing.” 

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, man…” 

“Is what it is,’ Goldstein shrugs. “We do our job well enough, nobody else’s gonna go through that, right?” 

“That’s the hope,” I agree. Everybody grunts their agreement. 

“Petty Officer Ch’chrk Shresht,” the fifth guy, a tall mantis-like Xindi with intricately carved mandibles, introduces himself. “Field medic, Unit 64.” 

“Pleasure. Hey, guys, nobody borrow his helmet, you’ll get a headache. No offense, Shresht.” 

“None taken, I know how your soft little eyes are,” he replies, and we share a chuckle. 

“I’m Lieutenant Rachel Connor, obviously,” I introduce myself as everybody moves in for shaking hands. “Commanding officer, Unit 131. I also handle close-combat and soaking up enemy fire.” 

“Never learned how to duck, huh?” t’Sehalien chuckles. 

“Something like that. One time, I got shot in the ass in the Arucanis Arm--we survive this mission, I’ll buy you all some booze and tell you.” 

“Andrew Lamont, second in command,” Lamont says once the laughter dies down. “Grew up in a first-run colony, kept the primary-school accent.” He exaggerates his received pronunciation for effect. 

“Sexy,” Goldstein notes with a wink. Lamont chuckles. 

“I can show you just how much of that accent I kept after we throw Shaw in the Brig. I can do a decent Lord Flashheart impression, if you know what I mean.” 

K’tar cuts in before the flirting can go much further. “Petty Officer K’tar, son of Revkar. Combat engineer and demolitions. Grew up on a neo-hippie startup colony on a mudball near the Maquis belt called New Earth. If you’d grown up there, you’d have left for the ancestors-damned Cardassians to get away.” 

“Hey, I knew a guy at the Academy from that place!” Shresht chitters. 

“Yeah, not surprised. Once you realize that the ‘healing power of crystals’ is as bullshit as that ‘mycelial network’ you get taught is the reason transwarp works in the planetary school system, you want to be educated literally anywhere else. No exceptions, trust me.” 

“I’m Petty Officer Jose Luiz,” Luiz rumbles. “I’m basically a platform for heavy weapons and a grenade belt.” Goldstein snickers at that. “Yeah, my humiliating personal detail is my given name.” 

“Could have been worse,” the Indian whose surname I can’t pronounce notes. 

“Hypothetically,” Luiz mutters darkly. Kallio steps up, affecting a badass pose that doesn’t quite work given that everybody else in the room has minimum thirty pounds on him and half of us have six inches on him to boot. 

“And I’m Petty Officer Aarno Kallio, sniper.” He kisses his phaser rifle. “My family’s descended from Simo Häyhä, that’s where I got my eyes from.” 

“Bullshit,” Abd el Aziz shoots back. 

“Swear to god it’s true! My mother’s a dozen and a half generations or so down the line.” 

“Next thing you know you’re gonna be telling me you can shoot the wings off a fly without it noticing.” 

Kallio scoffs. “I can’t. But I bet if you put the White Death up to it he could do it. My mother’s family, we have _ good _ eyes.” 

“And that’s where we stop before he starts telling tall tales about how his ancestor once walked off an anti-materiel round to the face,” K’tar growls. 

“He did!” Kallio protests. 

“So I hear you pulled a boarding op during Mockingbird,” t’Sehalien says to me as the others start shaking hands and debating long-dead badasses, referring to the time I led a fifty-man raid that captured the Iconian flagship during the final battle of the war. 

“I led and made the basic plan for the raid, yeah. Why d’you ask?” 

“I have a couple of cousins who were on the _ Lost Road _ with Praetor Velal when you used the flagship’s main gun to take out the battleship that was about to take out the warbird. We haven’t talked in decades, but still.” 

“Just doing my job,” I reply with a blush.

T’Sehalien shrugs. “Still. That raid was gutsy. And my blood owes you, so. Thanks.” 

“Help me bring that bitch Shaw in, then have a drink with me afterwards, and we’re even,” I tell her. She salutes with a vicious grin. 

“My pleasure, Lieutenant. I’ll bring the ale. The good stuff, the _ Imperial _stuff.” 

“Isn’t importing that still illegal?” 

She chuckles. “I don’t think that regulation’s actually enforced anymore. Now, you want to head for the mess hall or the power plant?” 

***

_ Rachel _ . _ Several minutes later. _

Eleana tabs the armory door open as I’m buckling my gauntlets on, Unit 64 already down in the shuttlebay with their gear. 

“Hey, sweetie,” I say as I look up. “I can’t talk, we make the system in ten and need to be ready to beam out one after that.” Technically we’re using shuttles, but still. 

“I know,” she says, but steps up to me anyway. “You’re sure you have to do this?” 

“It’s my job, babe.” I cup her cheek with one armored hand, and offer what I hope is a grin. “Besides. I’ve been waiting months for this. Payback’s a bitch, and I’m one _ mean _ bitch when I get pissed.” 

“Just…” She bites her lip. “Be safe out there?” 

“I can’t promise that,” I confess. “Not for my boys, not for the Fleet, not for you.” 

“I don’t want you to be safe for _ me _ . I want you to be safe for _ you _.” Her finger pokes me center-chest, her eyes hard and unflinching. 

“I…” I lick my lips. “I’ll try.” It spills out before I can come up with something witty. 

She pulls me close and plants one on my lips. My hand goes to the back of her head, her other to the back of mine with her first, and I slide my right around to the small of her back as she leans down into me. For a moment, everything’s perfect. 

Of course, my herd of cats has to fuck that up. 

“Why can’t _ we _ have that, man?” Kallio complains. K’tar grumbles. Eleana gives ‘em the finger and pulls me tight as I try to pull back, to which Luiz chuckles. 

Finally she lets me go, just before I would’ve really tried to pull back to finish strapping my guns on. My breathing’s ragged and I can feel my cheeks tingling as the chromatophores shift out of control. 

“When you go down there,” Eleana murmurs, “you’re going to beat that terrorist bitch. And I’ll be here waiting for you.” 

“I’m coming back,” I swear. “Can’t promise it’ll be in one piece. But I’m coming back.” 

“Good.” She pecks me on the lips again. “Now get out there and kick her ass.” 

I pull back, snagging my helmet off of its shelf and popping the clasps open. “Trust me, I will.” 

The helmet goes on, auto-maglocks in place, and I grab my rifle. “Alright, boys, let’s go show Section 31 that no fuckin’ cyborg’s a match for good old-fashioned Federation ingenuity.” 

“I hope my elbows survive this time,” Kallio mutters as he dons his helmet. 

“Eh, stay behind me so I can soak up her fire and you should be fine,” I reply. My HUD pops up on my visor. “Remember, guys—if I start to break and you have a shot…” 

“Take the shot,” Luiz rumbles with a grimace. 

“Exactly.” My mental health come second to catching a Top Ten Most Wanted fugitive. The boys don’t like that. I don’t care; Shaw’s going down today, damn it. “Now let’s finish getting dressed. I’ve got a mad dog to take out back and shoot.” 

***

_ Kanril _. 

We crash-translate into the planetoid belt a scant quarter-million kilometers from the Section 31 base, transitioning to full-impulse without a hitch. “Weapons hot!” I snap. “Target defense cannons and shield emitters! MACO 131, MACO 64, assault unit, launch and brace for breach!” 

Phaser fire snaps out from my baby, followed by a full spread of quantum torpedoes; _ Hanoi _ and _ Mahapiya Luta _ flank _ Bajor _ like gleaming silver fish spraying phaser cannon bolts to saturate the shields below. Assault shuttles launch from _ Bajor _ ’s shuttlebay as _ Sentinel _ swoops under her belly, shadowing the shuttles as they streak towards the base like huge torpedoes. A couple of fighters launch, phaser defense cannons snapping out and burning into the shuttles’ shields. 

“Tess, take out those cannons!” 

“On it, ma’am!” As two of the assault shuttles spiral, dead in space, _ Sentinel _ grabs them with tractor beams and another torpedo spread from _ Bajor _ blows out the defense cannons. The shields on the facility are wavering, and _ Sentinel _’s beam arrays snap out, tearing through the lighter interceptor fighters Section 31’s using. 

“Last-gen _ To’duj _ -class,” I remark as the computer picks one out on the viewscreen. “Figures. Probably bought ‘em off of some Klingon Great House that needed funds.” The shields falter, and the assault shuttles punch through, though the last one bounces off and loses a nacelle, rolling as it vents plasma. “ _ Sentinel _, get ‘em out of there.” 

The assault shuttles land, and I tab my comm again. “Who got through in the shuttles?” 

“_ Connor to _ Bajor _ , _ ” a familiar voice says over the line. “ _ We made it with Unit 64, ma’am, but we’re down half the assault unit _.” 

“_ We’ve evacuated the personnel that didn’t make it to the base, _” Ocett reports. 

“Decent enough numbers.” Surprise must’ve held, that’s a good result considering what we were up against. “Connor, Gantumur, continue with the assault as planned. All ships, focus on defenses and the shield generators!” 

Nothing to do now but take potshots and wait. 

***

_ Ellen Shaw. Section 31 base, command center. _

“We can expect two MACO units of five each and standard security forces in light powered hardsuits numbering about forty,” the Deputy Director informs me, the walls shuddering as a hail of fire rams into the shields from the ships in orbit. “We have some time before they beam in…” 

“No, we don’t,” I cut in. “Kanril has experience with heavily fortified targets and likes to get her hands dirty on the ground. The aug-loving cunt’s gonna use concentrated fire on a synchronized modulation, disrupt the shield harmonics in targeted areas and fly in reinforced shuttles for a ground assault.” _ No stinking aug-swine comes with my brain, you jumped-up little shit. Good luck trying to replace THAT. _

“You call me _ sir _ , Operator Shaw. I am the Director of this organization, and you _ will _ show me…” 

I lash out at the bitch, grabbing her by the shirt collar with a sneer. Phasers power up behind me, but fuck ‘em. “No, you little shithead. You’ve never given me the respect _ I _ deserve, the respect that Drake gave me. It makes me wonder why I’m still working for you sons of bitches, if my talents aren’t being appreciated.” 

“Let me go _ this instant _ , Shaw.” Her voice _ wavers _. For the first time since I’ve known the Deputy Director, there’s actual emotion in her icy voice. 

“Or what? You’ll have me stunned? You need me to get your shitwit ass out of here. And after that, _ fuck you _ , we’re _ done _ .” I throw her backwards against a control panel. “You’re lucky I’m a patriot, _ Deputy _ Director, because I sure as Hell don’t appreciate your lack of appreciation for me. Zh’Havek, grab five and come with me, I’m hunting MACOs. You, Fautor! Take the rest of these shitgibbons and prep for the regular troops. The commando teams’re going to hit backup shields, sensor scrambling, and the power core, while the backup heads for the command center.” Outnumbered two to one, if the Deputy Director’s intel is accurate. “Try not to die too fast.” 

At least I’m gonna get to fuck with Subject 87, that oughta be fun. 

“_ Operator Shaw _!” snaps the Deputy Director, adjusting her matte-black jumpsuit, the hint of red in her cheeks and slight unsteadiness in her voice the only sign of what’s probably a shitload of futile rage. “You will—”

I snap-draw my phaser and shut her up with a shot over my shoulder. “Fucking noisy bitch…”

I hear an ominous humming, and look around at the guys still here, with phaser rifles pointed at me. I actually laugh. “That was at level four, look.” I show them the power readout on my sidearm. “She’s still alive, it’s more than she deserves. Do you want to shoot me, or do you want to live?”

They stand around like idiots looking at each other for a moment, but gradually lower their guns. Not like they have any options right now. “Good, now let’s go kill some MACOs.”

_ Fuck _ me, shooting that smug-ass unappreciative bitch was satisfying. Then again, I’m running out of people with the brains to see that I’m the best. And there’s no way some aug-bitch’s copies can beat the best soldier the Federation’s ever seen. 

Maybe I’ll just torture the Deputy Director until she hands over her codes, take over the whole agency or what’s left of it. _ Wonder how long a baseline would last with a knife up her cunt… _

Of course, I _ could _ always go merc. I don’t _ want _ to, but it’d pay for maintenance. 

Fuck it, I don’t have to decide now. First, I get to have my fun with the livestock. 

***

_ Shaw. Approaching the mess hall, 3 minutes later. _

I see my prey before they do, thanks to my eye implants’ penetration scanners. “Hold up,” I tell the mooks I brought, pulling up just outside the door to the mess hall. “Five ahead. Four humanoids and some kinda bug, maybe a Xindi. It’s a MACO team. Cover the room—two on each wall behind the tables, the rest of you on either side of the doorway, tables for cover, laying down fire to keep ‘em down. Fuck up and I’ll kill you. Move!” 

They scatter for the walls as soon as they get into the mess hall, and I stride forwards, buzzing my phaser up to kill. The MACOs breach the door, and I fire as they come, my first shot fuzzing against the squad leader’s high-powered shields. 

“You lot just made a _ big _ mistake!” I shout, my light armor still packing enough power cells to let my shields hold as a heavy SAW returns fire. 

“_ Contact with Shaw! _ ” I hear one of them shout from inside her helmet. Man, I love my new ear implants. “ _ Shoot to stun! _” 

I bare my teeth. “Should’ve come to kill.” I kick off of a table, pulling off three shots into the sniper’s face and fouling up his aim before landing on my left leg, my right stretching out an almost unnatural angle to kick the Vulcanoid leader off her feet as my cybernetics let me keep my balance with inhuman grace. Fucking hell, I love this. 

“_ She’s got backup! _” one of the MACOs shouts. 

He shouldn’t worry about the backup. 

I power forwards, then duck into a roll with one fluid move, perfectly balanced, an engine of war. God, I’m such a fucking badass. I spin, and my heel knocks the heavy weapons man’s SAW aside as my mooks saturate his shields with phaser fire. He stumbles, his armor charring under the phaser beams, and I snap his right knee like a twig. He goes down like a tree, and I punch through his visor, then drop one of his grenades in. I don’t have time to do more than turn it on, no fiddling with the payload or timer or anything. 

He has just enough time to scream before the blast pulps his head. 

“_ Goldstein! _” That’s the bug. He and a woman are coming for me, and my shields burn out under sustained heavy stun as they split around me, 

I leap up, my phaser rifle’s butt crashing through the Xindi’s helmet as I bring him to the ground. He shoves at me, but I bring the butt down on his big freaky bug eyes once, twice. 

His scream is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. _ Fuck _, that gets my blood pumping! Then something hits my right arm and a shock courses through me, and I drop to one knee with a curse, the Xindi writhing beneath me. The woman, probably a field tech. 

I’m gonna make her death _ suck _. 

My cybernetics counter quickly for the shock, reinforcing what’s left of my nervous system. I scramble back, ducking under a table as my mooks trade shots with the MACOs. The Vulcanoid’s up. OK. I’ll kill the sniper first, then her. 

The sniper nails one of my mooks while the women move in on my table. “_ ‘Tala, flank her, I’ll fry this hlai-fucking bitch’s brain. _” The Vulcanoid. Oh, killing her’s going to be fun. I gather my limbs under me, then flip the table, and they shout as it hits them, knocking them back. 

Sniper is ducking down, but I cover the ground in three strides while the other MACOs are trying to rise. I’m on him before he can bring his gun to bear, and ram my knife in between his helmet and gorget, then _ lever _ it to slit his throat. He collapses, and damn near takes my knife with him. 

“_ Urru Areinneye! _ ” Rommie talk. From the Vulcanoid. Oh, so she’s one of _ those _ creeps. She’s trying to stay low, her armor scarred by phaser fire, but it’s not enough. I duck, roll, lunge, and take her off her feet, then stand and hit her feet and calves with an auto burst. It scores gouges right through the deck plating and sets her feet on fire as she screams, the plastic of her armor _ melting _ under the phaser’s blasts. I hear something coming for me from behind, turn, nab the tech’s autonomous drone out of the air, rip out the gravy unit, and drop the remains. I stamp on the bitch’s knees just for kicks, then turn, zeroing in on the last MACO. 

The Xindi’s screaming’s starting to get annoying. “Someone shut that fucking bug up!” I snap, and my mooks hit the guy with phaser beams until his noise finally cuts out. 

“_ Shresht! _ ” The tech’s scared shitless, but also pissed. _ Good _ . I like it when they’re all righteous. It’s the closest I’m gonna get to getting payback on those limp-dicks in Command for now. “ _ Rot in Yama’s house, Shaw! _ ” She has an autoturret out and activates it as I move in. My shields fall, but I’m _ there _ like lightning, and I jump with the agility of a machine, levering the emission tubes off with one foot as I leap over it. The tech falls back, and I grab her gun in one hand, flipping my rifle around to ram the butt into her face, once, twice, three times. She falls, letting go of her gun, which I bend in half and toss aside. 

I pin the MACO tech to the deck with one foot on her neck, sneering down at her as she claws desperately at me. Her helmet’s visor is shattered, and I can see the partial Klingon ridges inside. Those brutes are supposed to be tougher than this, heh. 

“I’ll be generous,” I chuckle as I slot a new power cell into my phaser and buzz it up to Kill, pointing it straight at the bitch’s face. “I’ll give you last words.” 

She realizes I’m serious. Smarter than most, then. “_ He Bhagavaan… Maan, mujhe bahut khed hai… _” 

I pull the trigger, and burn a hole straight through those pretty little ridges and the brain beneath. “What a fucking waste of a suit of armor, am I right?” I say with a laugh to nobody in particular. “Crying for her Mommy! How the Hell did a coward like that get into MACO?” 

The couple of mooks who’re still upright chuckle along dutifully, but it sounds off. I glance over them, and snort to myself. Fuckers are _ scared _. And… some of them are straight-up horrified. 

Weak little shits. 

“Get your asses in gear,” I snarl, then kick the dead bitch’s helmet to smash her cam. “I got an aug-pig to fuck up.” 

“Ah, Operator Shaw…” The mook quails as I round on him. 

“_ What _?” 

“We… we could have taken them… prisoner…” 

“Get your fucking brain engaged, asswipe. We’re defending the Federation here. If they attack us, they attack the Federation, and we’ve got a duty to teach them a fucking lesson. Now either shut up and get with the program or give me your gun so I can make better use of…” 

“Hey… _ Shaw! _” someone hisses from behind me. I turn…

The Rommie ex-pat who was leading these suckers has the heavy weapons guy’s explosive belt, the remains of her legs still bleeding behind her ruined torso, and she’s pulled all the pins on a couple of what look like high-yield neutronic breacher bombs. “_ Imirrhlhhs’ehu _!” 

“Oh fu—”

The impact catches me like a giant’s fist, and everything goes white. 

By the time my vision clears, I’m flat on my ass. I groan, rolling over in my ruined armor. My gun sparks, flames licking around the emission tube, and I toss it aside. Useless. 

The mess hall’s a fucking disaster zone. I was lucky I had power armor; by the looks of it the bomb liquefied the Rommie’s head and cracked her suit like an egg, and all my minions are lying still and broken around me. Some of them in pieces. Goddamn it, the Deputy Director’s gonna ride my ass about ‘wasting’ grunts. 

Oh, wait. I don’t need to worry about her anymore. I grin in spite of myself; maybe today hasn’t been all bad. 

I don’t like the look of the ceiling, which creaks ominously; some of the walls are split open, and I can see the green fire of caustic plasma jetting out and lighting a table on fire across the hall. 

_ Time to move _. I ditch my armor piece by piece as I head for the exit, keeping only my knife, which is at least intact. 

Me alone against Subject 87 and her squad will be a bit of a challenge like this, but fuck it. I know I can beat ‘em. I’m Ellen Shaw, after all. 

***

_ Kanril Eleya. USS Bajor bridge. _

“_ Phekk _,” I curse as the feed goes out and the viewscreen shows a good-sized fireball from the base below. “All units, report in!” 

“Looks like they hit a flammable conduit,” Tess comments as secondary explosions rip out chunks of the base’s hull. 

“All units, _ report _!” I bark again. For a horrible moment there’s nothing but static, but then the comms crackle. 

“_ Lamont here, Captain. Two injured, one missing. Kallio and Luiz are a bit toasted, they’ll recover. The Lieutenant got separated from us in that explosion—was that the self-destruct, ma’am? _” 

“No, something breached a plasma conduit. What about Connor, what’s her status?” 

“_ Suit telemetry’s not responding. We’re moving to rendezvous with Gantumur’s team and loop around the obstruction to her last position. _” 

“_ Gantumur here, ma’am, we’re a little singed but intact _.” 

“Both of you, move _ fast _ . Shaw took out Unit 64, and we don’t know if she got killed in that explosion. We’re sending shuttles in for evac, but _ we do not leave _ without either the Lieutenant or her remains.” 

“_ Confirm that, ma’am _.” 

“_ Yes, ma’am. Ensign! We’re moving out, on the double! _” 

I mute my comms and curse fluently. “_ Phekk! Phekk! Phekk’sa maktal kosst amojan, phekk’ta _ Cardassian- _ phekk _ ing…” I manage to regain control as the Ensign at the helm quails away, sucking in a deep breath. Calm. The crew needs that from me even if we’re _ phekked _. 

It’s a skill I’ve refined pretty well over the last few years. Close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose, count to ten, and let out the breath. “OK. The mission parameters have changed. Under no circumstances can we allow Lieutenant Connor or part of her body to be extracted by Section 31. Capturing Shaw is now our number-two priority.” 

“Uh, yes, ma’am,” the helmsman gulps. _ Phekk _ . What a mess. Five MACOs dead, Connor missing in action—what a disaster. We had _ surprise _, damn it. 

No use resting on should-have-beens. “Biri, I want you to cut through that interference and get me a headcount on lifesigns. Kanril to Wirrpanda, prepare to receive casualties.” 

“_ All hands on deck down here, ma’am _.” 

“Good man.” I turn back to the viewscreen and key up the group comm. “_ Sentinel _ , ready your tractor beam and get over by that shuttlebay. _ Hanoi _ , _ Bajor _ , and _ Mahapiya Luta _ can handle the assault and recovery. If you can capture Jin we can at least come out on top of this cluster _ phekk _.” 

“Ma’am,” Biri reports. “I’ve got a sensor solution. Low-resolution, but thanks to their unique physical conditions, I have likely locations on Lieutenant Connor—and Shaw.” 

I look at the flagged lifesigns she puts up on the viewscreen’s projection of the facility, and when I see where Shaw’s going, I can’t help but verbally compare my luck to a Gul’s asshole. 

***

_ Rachel. _

“_ Fuck _ ,” I rasp as I haul myself out from under what used to be the ceiling. Somehow there’s still atmo, but it’s choked in soot and the stink of burning chemicals. I cough as I shuck my helmet, the shattered, half-melted visor as good as useless now. My armor sparks the motorization gone and the plates melted. I haul myself to my feet and start tearing the ruined stuff off; it’s done its job saving me from crushing injuries, but with the damage to it I’m better off without the weight. I tug out the coms rig and tap it, but get nothing but static. “MACO 131, report,” I snarl. Nothing. _ Fuck _. They were behind me by a bit, maybe they got out? “Damn it, Lamont, report!” 

Nothing. 

“MACO 64, backup’s going to take a minute or two,” I try, but get nothing back. So either this thing is busted or they’re all dead. Or both. 

I drop the helmet and check my weapons. My rifle’s emission tube is crushed and the power cell’s leaking a nasty-smelling fluid, so that’s useless. Holdout pistol’s bent in half and sparking uselessly. My field knife’s handle is a bit melted, but it seems generally intact; great. One knife, versus Shaw. 

Just my luck, really. 

I recall the maps of this facility as best I can; Unit 64 was down at the mess hall, I can head there and then to the evac point. God, this is gonna suck. 

Secondary explosions blow out the walls behind me as I move, and I curse, turning down a more intact-looking corridor. My boys had _ better _ be alive, there’s no way in Hell I’m putting four chevrons on a wall in San Francisco. 

_ Get to whatever’s left of Unit 64. Take out Shaw. Keep my head _ . Just gotta focus on that. _ I’m in control. I’m a _ living weapon _ , damn it, I’m made of fucking iron _. I turn down a corridor that I’m pretty sure heads towards the mess hall.

This would be so much easier if I had four men and a comlink to the ship right now. 

“Hey!” Something explodes behind me as I turn, ditching the last of my ruined armor. A tall, muscular, buxom redhead steps out of a burning corridor, holding a knife. “Long time, no see, Subject 87.” 

_ Shaw _ . It’s different to have it really be her; the hologram doesn’t capture the snarling tone in her voice, the subtly _ wrong _ smell of her that creeps the fuck out of me. My body freezes and I suck in a sharp breath involuntarily, and the cyborg grins. “There you go. Good dog. Now heel!” 

_ I’m stronger _ . Eleana, Lamont, the Captain, Luiz, Gantumur, Kallio, my family, K’tar, the _ Bajor _, everybody who needs me, I gotta be strong for them. I force myself to stand tall, and pull out my own knife, the last weapon I’ve got. “Go to Hell, Shaw.” 

“Well, shit,” she complains, and she lunges. “Guess I gotta do this the hard way.” 

I duck back, fighting the urge to drop, to cower--there’s no pain coming, there can’t be pain coming, I’m in control, I’ve got… 

Her knife slices into my arm, and I scream. The pain shocks me out of my mantra, and I half-raise my hands in conditioned fear, but Shaw doesn’t care. She rips into my gut with her knife and then slams me into the deck with her hand on my throat. 

“Heh, that was easy.” Her grin is the one a cat gets when it has a still-living mouse and wants to play. “Waste of fuckin’ credits, you are. Now heel and come quietly, bitch!” 

“Yes… no… I…” _ Fuck _! I thrash desperately, and she curses as I land a solid one in her side, then stabs me in the right side of my chest. 

“Goddamn it, fucking heel already, bitch!” 

I scream and slam her in the gut with my right fist, and Shaw huffs out a breath as she’s torn off of me, her knife clattering to the ground somewhere, then groans in pain. I scrabble for a weapon, find my knife, and bring it around to stab at Shaw’s shoulder but she’s already moving, and her cybernetics make her just as strong as me. I snarl as I try to force the knife down against her bone-cracking grip, my wrists screaming in pain, and she grins at me. She fucking _ grins _. 

“You’re weak, dog. Now heel for me and I’ll only whip you a little bit.” 

The fear boils up inside me, and I nearly falter, almost slipping back to that pathetic naked wretch whimpering and doing whatever this psycho wanted. But something in the cyborg’s glittering eyes and sadistic leer spark something in me, and it _ burns _ with rage. 

I want to fucking kill this bitch, _ slowly _. And the fact that I’m scared of her? That just makes me want to cut her tongue out, first. 

“Fuck… _ you _!” I spit, and bear down on the knife with everything I have. It digs into the joint of Shaw’s shoulder, and she shrieks in pain, something cracking inside as I ram it into what I hope is one of her cyber-joints. 

She’s not down yet. Her knee shatters my left patella and I nearly white out as the fragments lance into a nerve center; Shaw uses the opportunity to shove me off and pulls my knife out of her shoulder. 

“Stinking _ augment _ ,” Shaw snarls, and she rams the blade into my gut with her right, her left jerking awkwardly. I wheeze in agony, and Shaw sneers. “Not so fucking brave are you _ now _ , bitch?” Her knee hits my chest, the knife tearing awkwardly at my insides, and her right’s fingers dig into my undersuit at my crotch. “You’re _ mine _ , bitch. You obey _ me _ . I _ broke _ you, I fucking _ own your ass _ and you don’t have the stones to challenge that.” 

I whimper, freezing up as my blood and the half-digested crap slurry in my small intestine leaks all over my insides and undersuit. My skin begins to prickle as the adaptation begins, but I can’t move, I’m so fucked up I can’t do more than twitch and hyperventilate as the cyborg fucks with me. Shaw chuckles as she slaps my face casually with her good hand, then reaches down, and her fingers punch through my undersuit as I try to coordinate a response. I hear a high-pitched wail, and realize it’s my own as Shaw leans in with a hungry sneer on her plump lips. 

“I hope they let me have you when you’re not being used to kill some poor chump who crossed the next Director. Think about it, animal. You won’t be able to do a damn thing to stop me, just like you can’t now.” 

I can feel something wet on my cheeks. Sweat? Blood? Tears? Lamont’s voice surfaces in my head, a memory, after a breakdown, I’m shaking in one of the chairs in our quarters, elbows on my knees, and he and Luiz are just holding me and rubbing my back while K’tar gets Eleana. _ You’re the strongest woman I know, Lieutenant. You’re going to kick Ellen Shaw’s treacherous behind six ways from Sunday, then we’re throwing her in prison for good. _

_ Hear, hear, _ Luiz concurs. 

They believe in me. 

The Captain, looking at me with warm sympathetic eyes the morning after my first breakdown. _ It’s alright to need help. We’re going to get you closure. You’re going to fight back _

_ You’re going to get better, Lieutenant. Trust me on this. _

She believes in me. 

Eleana’s voice, her hand on my cheek, fine scales tickling my skin. _ I want you to be safe for _ you _ . _ Her lips on mine, my gauntleted hand in her hair, the smell of her skin and the taste of her consuming me, reminding me that I’m a real person, that I’ve got someone, that I _ deserve _ someone. 

They all believe in me. 

And this _ fucking bitch _ is not going to break me again. 

I grab Shaw by the throat, and she cuts off in the middle of another rape threat with a squawk of surprise. I yank her close, serrated teeth bared, and _ squeeze _ , trying to gnaw at her face as I crush her throat. Her right grabs for my hands, then as something metal begins to strain inside her throat, she rams me in the side, _ hard _, right where she cut me before. It hurts like Hell but I try to hold on…

Shaw yanks back, hard enough to pull back a few inches and make my grip slip just the tiniest bit, then comes back down _ hard _ . _ Fuck! _ I should’ve expected…

I see stars, and Shaw pulls herself off of me, hacking and wheezing as she curses semi-intelligibly. My vision’s fuzzy, a throbbing pain in my head as blood runs down my scalp, but I try to roll up…

Then the plating tears through my skin, and I scream in pain as I writhe on the ground reflexively, the thick chitin ripping straight through the epidermis and layers of nerves in seconds. Shaw curses a bit more comprehensibly, and I feel more than see or hear her boot coming for me before I’m lifted off of the ground with the _ crack _ of a rib and crash into the wall. A panel falls on me, and I feel a blast of heat from above, the crackle of a plasma conduit about to rupture sending alarm bells on instinct into my brain. 

“You can’t beat me, Rachel!” Shaw screams, hoarse from me nearly crushing her throat. “I’m _ better _ than you, you goddamn augment dog! Top of my fucking class, youngest Commander in history! You’re just an overranked grunt with a few mods to her genome!” 

I haul myself out from under the conduit. “Shut. _ Up _!” I roll into a crouch, biting back a groan at the broken rib and the organ damage, and leap. 

Shaw’s still collecting herself, and 110-odd kilos of supercharged super-dense Augment muscle hits her in the midsection, knocking her flat. 

I grab Shaw’s face and _ smash _ her head down, cracking the deckplate, then try to snap her neck, but there’s some kind of built-in lockup to her neck and it seizes before I can reach a critical angle. She punches me again, then curses as the impact’s blunted by the plating. I grab her arm and _ yank _ with everything I have, one knee on Shaw’s chest, and she howls in agony as something _ rips _ inside and the arm comes partway off, circuits and metal bones visible through blood and gore. I haul her up as she tries to control herself and ignore the pain, holding her by the neck with one hand as I stumble across the corridor, and I ram her face into the plasma conduit. 

Shaw’s scream is inhuman as the entire left side of her face, eye included, is burned away instantly. The skull seems to hold, but my hand’s beginning to crisp even with the chitin covering it, so I pull her back and throw her across the corridor. Shaw tries to rise with no good arms and her entire body consumed by pain, but fails, and she slumps to the ground with a groan. 

“I’m not your fucking victim, you treacherous rapist bitch,” I snarl, and all she can offer in return is a weak whine as the little charred remains of the left side of her face smoke gently. Hope I didn’t cook _ too _ much of her brain. 

I grab a safety valve the maintenance techs would use about a foot from the rupture, and thankfully it works, the eruption of plasma shutting off. Shaw’s still twitching a bit, but I pick her up and haul her over my shoulder, stumbling for the evac point. The cyborg struggles a bit, but she’s uncoordinated and probably semiconscious from the pain, plus her arms are so much useless metal and flesh right now. 

Two junctions later, as something explodes behind me, I hear her say something that sounds like a word. I dump her, and gasp for breath, the pain from my fractured rib and the gut injury wearing at me. “What?” 

“Wwwwhhyyy… nnaaahh… kkkiiillll… mmmee?” 

“‘Cause I had orders,” I pant, hands on my knees as I lean over the downed cyborg. “Capture alive. You’re gonna spend the rest of your life in prison, for disobeying orders, the murders, the torture, and for what you did to me. And you’re never going to touch me, _ ever fucking again _.” 

“Kkkiiillll… mmeee!” 

I wheeze a chuckle, my abdomen burning as my insides begin repairing me. “Not a chance, bitch. You don’t get the easy way out. You’re gonna spend a few centuries in Facility 4028. I hope you get solitary.” 

There’s a _ thud _ ahead of me, and I look up. Black-armored shapes are coming through the remains of a door ahead, Starfleet chevrons visible on the shoulders. “ _ Lieutenant _ ?” It’s Lieutenant Gantumur, head of the infantry assault unit, wearing a GUNGNIR hardsuit and backed up by what might be her boys, might be mine. “ _ Good to see you alive. _” 

“My squad?” I ask, collapsing down to the floor. 

“_ I’m here, Kallio and Luiz are in Sickbay, K’tar’s mining the computer banks for anything we can get, _ ” Lamont’s voice reports from a suit speaker beside Gantumur. “ _ You’re looking good, sir. _” 

I laugh a bit in spite of the pain. “Yeah. Guess I am.” I motion to Shaw, her good eye glaring hate at me from the floor. “Give me a hand? I got a little trash to take out.” 

***

_ Captain Kanril Eleya. Brig, USS _ Bajor _ , en route to Deep Space K-7. _

Ellen Shaw’s still missing some skin and one of her eyes, showing the scalded tritanium below, but she’s on her feet and pissed, albeit cuffed, chained to the wall by her feet and waist, and held behind force fields rated for Undine and power-armored Gorn. She sneers as I approach, slouching against the wall with her feet propped up on the bench. “Good, you’re awake,” I say to her glowing red cyber-eye.

“Lemme guess, gonna read me my rights?” 

I ignore her, coming to parade rest with my hands clasped behind my back. “Ellen Lydia Shaw, under the authority of the Federation Starfleet I’m hereby placing you under arrest pending transport to federal district court. You are charged with escaping from custody, treason, conspiracy, murder, attempted murder, domestic terrorism, crimes against sapient life, and document fraud. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that shit,” the psychopath cuts me off. “Tell me, where’s the rape charge? You realize that the Zurich conventions mean I can fuck the aug worse than the Cardies did your planet and get off scot-free?” 

I take a breath, in, out. No sense giving this _ phekk’ta _ degenerate the satisfaction of pissing me off. “Lieutenant Connor has decided not to press charges at this time, seeing as it would be a massive legal hassle and you’re going to prison for the rest of your life anyway.” I shake my head as she sneers. “What the _ phekk _ was it all worth, Shaw?” 

“_ Commander _ Shaw,” she hisses. 

“You were stripped of rank and thrown out on your ear. You don’t rate so much as a nod unless I care to acknowledge you.” 

She spits at me, the liquid fizzing on the forcefield and dripping to the ground. I sigh. 

“What the _ phekk _ took you from recruitment vids and medals to being a cheap rapist thug working for a bunch of terrorists, Shaw? You wasted a damn good career and a couple of decent MACOs, and for what? Becoming a glorified gang enforcer?” I know intellectually, the fallout of her court-martial must’ve done a number on her mind, but still… something in me wants to hear it from her mouth. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Shaw snaps. “Sometimes, you gotta do dirty things for the Federation. Sometimes, you gotta do things you know you shouldn’t like for the Federation. Command didn’t see that. Bunch of fuckin’ sell-outs, wanting to offer a _ deal _ to some child-running psycho, letting the Bajorans elect those Nationalist seps, letting the Cardies and the Rommies run deals around our companies and labor syndicates to undermine our economy like the sneaky bastards they are…” She shakes her head. “I’m no traitor, bitch. _ They _ ’re the traitors, up in Command. They betrayed _ me _ . _ Me _ , the greatest soldier to come out of the Academy in generations. I graduated top of my class, came out of the best prep school on Earth, _ personally _ saved a Romulan ambassador at Acamar III, took out General Mok’tar and his entire command staff on Baraka with an undermanned squad when they said it couldn’t be done—I’m the best there is. And those cowardly, limp-dicked sons of bitches turned on me. Jealous, wimpy-ass, failed _ fucks _ ! They tried that shit in the Academy, it didn’t stick either time-- _ what gives them the right to second-guess me _ ? I’m Ellen _ fucking _Shaw. And I guess Section 31 are the only people with the balls to let me do what I gotta do.” 

“You really believe that,” I realize. “_ Phekk _ . You ever stop and look at the woman you were raping, who got turned into a supersoldier who tears her own skin off every time she gets hurt by the people _ you work for _, and think about if you’re on the wrong side?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, but Shaw answers anyway. “Rachel Connor died on Vega Colony when she got assimilated. Subject 87’s just a science experiment gone off the rez. Nothing wrong with breaking a dog to the leash, even if you have to do a few things you ain’t proud of to make it heel. Besides. The woman who got nabbed by the Borg back on that rock five years ago? She was a good Earth girl. A real Federation patriot. She’d be _ happy _ that her body was still serving the Federation, and she’d know I was in the right to break that aug-swine for our nation.” 

I shake my head. What can you say to delusion like that? “You’re a _ phekk’ta _ psychopath. I hope you like the taste of prison rations, Shaw, because you’re going to be in Facility 4028 for a _ very long time _.” 

I mute the com system as she snarls back, and motion to Dul’krah’s men to take their places. What a _ phekk’ta _ waste. 

_ *** _

_ Rachel. USS _ Bajor _ sickbay. _

“Here’s to us,” I say as everybody still conscious crowds around in a circle, the docs having just cleared the wounded. Lamont, bless him, got us some real Romulan ale. “Who’s like us?” 

“Damn few!” the others, Gantumur’s unit and mine, call back, and I’m still kinda surprised nobody’s questioning my chitin armor. “And they’re all dead!” 

“To MACO Unit 64,” I toast. “T’Sehalien, al-Barakai, Shresht, Goldstein, Chunapregadda. Sons of bitches earned their chevrons on the wall.” 

“MACO 64,” the others confirm, and we drink. 

“God, I’d hate to be Captain char Makal right about now,” Gantumur mutters. “Or Captain Kanril, for that matter.” 

“I feel you,” I reply with a nod and a grimace. Writing Regret To Inform You letters _ sucks _, and the Captain, being in tactical command of the mission, has final responsibility. 

But I did it. I took down Shaw. _ I _ paid that traitor back for t’Sehalien, and Shresht, and Chunapregadda, and al-Barakai, and Goldstein. And every other one of ours she’s ever killed. 

And for me. 

It’ll never be public, of course. Intel wants this under wraps. I don’t have to worry about angry parents, or worse, grateful parents. Nobody who wasn’t here or at zh’Zoarhi’s clearance level is ever going to know how those five soldiers died other than “in combat, serving the Federation with distinction”. They get a little chevron, or if they’re really lucky a plaque, at Starfleet Command. 

I remember the feel of Eleana’s lips on mine. Her hands in my hair. Her body in my arms, pulling herself close, making me promise to stay safe. She loves me, warts and self-hatred and messy emotional state and all. 

For the first time in years, I can imagine something for myself _ other _ than a chevron on a wall. 

“Captain on deck!” Gantumur calls suddenly, and I’m snapped out of my thoughts as we all stand to salute Captain Kanril, who waves us down. 

“At ease. Lieutenant. Sorry about the, uh…” 

I shrug, chitin plating moving with me. “Is what it is, ma’am. It helped me land Shaw, at least.” 

“Fair enough, then. I just got off the commo with zh’Zoarhi. MACO 64’s getting defense unit citations posthumously.” About what could be expected, even though they deserved Karagite Heroism, given the secrecy of the mission. “Zh’Zoarhi sends her personal congratulations and promises that Shaw’s going straight back to 4028 for a few centuries. We’ve got Shaw in the brig, and Jin Buhui’s over on _ Sentinel _ looking at a life sentence. You’re in her good books, Lieutenant, and that’s a good place to be, or so I’m told.” 

“Says the woman who half of Command thinks is a loose cannon who plays fast and loose with the Prime Directive,” I chuckle. 

“Hey,” the Captain shrugs, “the other half thinks that we don’t play fast and loose _ enough _ with the Prime Directive. Either way, you did good work today, Lieutenant. You seem pretty stable, too.” 

I give her a pointy-toothed grin. “I can’t even worry about being outed to half the Security department now,” I admit. “Too much adrenaline and endorphins. Kinda swimming in a sea of hormones here, comes with the adaptation.” It’s like being drunk, only I feel like I could go twenty rounds with a Taurean anthropoid. 

“Fair enough. Wirrpanda wants to keep you here under observation for a couple hours and Shree agrees, but after that, you should be out free. Take the day off, drop by your girlfriend’s quarters or something.” 

“Thank you, ma’am. Am I allowed visitors?” 

“Ensign Valen’s helping dispose of some of Section 31’s gene vectors. They were trying a virus, apparently, something modified to help them replicate you, it’s all hands on deck in exobiology trying to neutralize it and destroy the data. Thirteen people, looks like volunteers--_ phekked _ up results, made me sick just looking at what happened to the poor bastards through the viewscreen. She’ll be down when they’re all done. For now, I’d say just lay back, relax, and try to enjoy the company, Connor. You earned it.” 

“With pleasure, ma’am.” 

“One last thing. I need to know how you want to deal with Shaw.” 

***

I settle my breath before heading in. Just in case. 

Shaw’s slumped in her chains, seething, when I hit the security field to draw her eye. “Shaw.” 

She looks up, then her still-pale-skinned face splits into a vicious grin. “Well, well, well. Hey, aug-swine. Come to your senses about who owns your ass?” 

“Shut up,” I reply, as calmly as I can. “If you out me, Shaw? I _ will _ kill you, but first I’ll haul your ass butt-naked in front of the entire Federation on a live FNN broadcast and beat the shit out of you, so that _ every single person in the entire Federation and anywhere else that gets our broadcasts _ will know just what a fucking failure you are. Got that?” 

“Fuck you,” she spits. “You didn’t beat me, 87. You _ can’t _ beat me. I was off my game, that’s all.” 

I give her my best sneer. “Says the woman who lost a one-on-one fight and who’s looking at the rest of her life in a padded cell.” 

“Screw that, when I get out, I’m gonna find you, I’m gonna get everyone you love—your squad, your family, that half-goblin bitch you’re fucking—and make them watch as I ram my fist right up your—” 

“Good luck getting out of Facility 4028 after the hit we just gave Section 31. It’ll take ‘em years to build up enough forces for any major operations, and after I kicked your ass down there, I don’t think they’ll take the time and resources to get you out of the highest-security facility in the Federation.” I manage a nasty chuckle. “I hear you’re on the same cellblock as Franklin Drake. Meanwhile, I’m supposed to be getting another citation, and we’ve got a funeral for those MACOs you killed. Which, by the way, hope you enjoy the four consecutive life sentences for murder 1 and high treason for those.” 

I step closer to the forcefield, lips splitting over my razor teeth. “And while I’m off fighting for the Federation, getting my happy little life with a nice little apartment and the three point five kids or whatever’s the average these days, _ replacing _ you, taking everything you thought was yours to have because you were shoved out of the right vag, you’ll have nothing to do but rot and meditate on your own goddamn failures. _ Bitch _.” 

“_ You won’t replace me, aug-pig! _ I’m the greatest soldier the Federation’s ever seen! I’m _ Ellen _ ** _FUCKING_ ** _ Shaw _ !” Flecks of spittle spray around her mouth, and the new skin on the side of her face I burned off splits and tears, letting trickles of blood through. “I’ll get out, and I’ll remind you who’s boss, and I’ll make you _ beg _ when I do it, aug-bitch! You’ll _ beg _ me to fuck you, you little shit!” 

It shakes me, though I do my best to hide it. I can feel the fear bubbling up, the raw bone-chilling gibbering horror that the sight of this bitch still gives me. But I force it down—I’m stronger, I _ won _, I beat her fair and square. “Wanna try again? Maybe I’ll burn the other half of your face off and we’ll see who wants you to model for recruitment vids then.” 

“You’re still just an _ augment _,” Shaw spits. “You’ll never get a normal life.” 

“Yeah, thanks to your old boss, Franklin Drake.” I cross my arms. “But I’ve got a girlfriend who loves me, a good team, a good CO, and a good job. You’re spending the rest of your life in prison, Shaw, and a few more life sentences after that just in case.” I lean in, and Shaw sneers at me, but I force another smile anyway. “_ I won _.” 

She spits at me, and the forcefield fuzzes. The cyborg grins insouciantly as I flinch ever so slightly. “Fuck you, aug-rat. I _ own _ you, forever now. Every time that pretty little half-breed of yours touches you, you’ll think of me. Every night you’ll dream of me; you can’t escape me, Rachel. I own your _ mind _ and that’s never gonna change.” 

I set my jaw, forcing my shaking hands behind my back. “Maybe I can’t forget you. But I can deal with a few nightmares. I’m stronger than you think I am, Shaw. At the end of the day, I’m going to go out there and enjoy a long, happy life with my girlfriend and my chest full of goddamn medals, and _ you _ have nothing but a one-way ticket to Facility 4028. You’ve got nobody and nothing. Nobody’s going to come ‘rescue’ you, ‘cause nobody cares enough to try and nobody ever will.” I turn on my heel and walk away. “Enjoy prison, bitch.” 

Shaw’s gone white even before I turn, but she snarls and slams the forcefield as I head for the door. “Hey! Don’t you fucking walk away from me! Get back here, dog! You can’t run from me! _ I own you! _ I’m gonna find you and break you like a goddamn _ twig _ , aug-bitch, you hear me? I’m Ellen _ fucking _Shaw, goddamn it! You’re nothing, Rachel! You’re just an augment, not even a real person! You’ll never be free, you little…” 

The door seals behind me, and I clench my fists, Lamont and Luiz falling in silently behind me as I head down the hall towards the main Security office. I slip in without a word, and Lieutenant Korekh greets me with a silent nod, stepping aside to let me the surveillance footage of the Brig. 

“How’re you doing, sir?” Luiz asks, coming up behind me with Lamont. 

I look at Shaw, punching the forcefield with an impotent snarl, and I find myself grinning like a shark. “I feel fucking great, Petty Officer. I feel _ free _.” 

FIN. 


End file.
